


The Scars that Connect us

by Musical_Noel



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Complete, Completed, Domestic, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, angst in middle, but it all works itself out, oblivious characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:25:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 101,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musical_Noel/pseuds/Musical_Noel
Summary: When two Soulmates are both of age, they will share something. What's your is mine, and mine, yours.When you turn 18, You draw upon your skin, and is shows upon your soulmates skin also, however, you can't receive theirs until they are 18.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized after I planned and wrote it all out that’s I made Erik a little young so we’re just going to pretend

It's all he's known, these horrid names he's been called

 

'Beast'

 

Floating around, constantly following him

 

'Monster'

 

Mocking him 

 

'Disgrace'

 

How can anyone love the face of a monster

 

'Angel?'

 

No one in their right mind would take up all of his burdens 

 

'Mommy, does he have a Soulmate?'

 

why would he

 

'No, honey, he's a monster'

 

How could  he

 

'Angel?'

 

'Monsters can't have soulmates because they don't have souls.'

 

'Oh,'

 

'Move along now honey.'

 

How could he love, when all he's been shown is hate? 

 

"Angel?  Gosh, the onetime Madame Giry lets me leave on time and you're not here. I guess that's what I get for being late every day, you stop showing up on time too."

"No, dear Christine, I'm here" I said, snapping out of my day dream. Her face lit up as her small figure approached the mirror. I remember when I first heard her voice, just two years ago, but it still feels like yesterday. A little voice, crying in the distance, whimpering out a tune, and yet it was still one of the most beautiful voices. Albeit, it needed some work, it was still magnificent. So when I asked about her to Madame Giry and we started lessons, I knew I would create one of my most wonderful creations out of her, and one day she can take the stage and sing through me.

"You were on time today, Christine, so straight to lessons, start your warm ups, then we will start something new. We will be working on runs today, so I thought we would work on 'Come and Trip it' by Handel."

"That's in English, Angel, you know my French isn't good, so why English?" She whined

"You'll never get better if you don't try, now your scales" I gave her her starting note, then she soared through the warm ups with perfection and practice of two years under her.

 

* * *

 

After we finished, Christine sat on the ground, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she took in little breaths and opened her mouth, but even after a few moments, she didn’t say anything.

"Christine, you look as though something is bothering you." 

"Angel, do you have a soulmate?' she asked innocently, "Like another Angel, that you spend all of eternity with?" I was dumbfounded by this nine year old girl, I've never been asked if I have a soulmate, I've only been told I don't, though those were people who saw my face.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, one of the older girls turned eighteen today and she was talking about it today. She said a part of her that she didn't even know was missing was filled. She also said it was a little painful, which I found weird, why would getting your soulmate be painful? I don't know, I guess I wanted to talk to somebody I know well about it and they wouldn't make fun of me.''

Relief flooded through me as the grandfather clock chimed, telling us our time was up. 

“Until next time, Christine,” I said, and even though I know she can't see me, she looked in to my eyes, smiled, and ran out the door towards dinner. I was scared that she could see me, scared that she could see me this whole time, but then why would she have stayed and called me angel if she knew I was a man.  

I turned and walked my way back through my personal maze, not even paying attention to what I was doing, because knew the way so well. I was distracted, thinking about if I had a soulmate. I turned 18 six years ago, I wasn't even in Paris, yet, I didn't even give it much thought. I just figured that I didn't, that's what people always told me, plus, if I had a soul mate, wouldn't they have written back, or have they just not turned of age?  If I did have one, they must know I exist because I write on myself all the time, a musical master piece that would be to good to not be written down at that moment should I forget later, little notes to help me remember things, even the smudge marks from when I'm writing or painting or composing. 

I shake my head trying to push the thoughts away, thinking about it will only make it worse for when I die alone. Of course no one could love me, how could anyone love a face that even my own mother couldn't love. A face that put me through all of the horrors of my life, the face that gave me the scars that run almost every inch of my body. Scars that leave the Phantom with phantom pains of my own. A man who killed without thought and didn't care of the horrors he brought upon other people until it was to late. 

No one could love him, and I had been so content with that, but then she had to go and ask that stupid question, and now that's all that's on my mind. I sat at my piano, hoping that some music would rush to me and help me clear my mind, but nothing. I sat for what felt like hours, looking through compositions, sitting there, staring at the keys, playing simple scales, just in hopes that something, anything would come to me but nothing. After loosing hope of that, stood up and went into my main room and grabbed a book, hoping maybe that could clear my mind of this frenzy. I could see the words on the page, but they weren't registering in my brain. The only thing I could think of, through all of this was, what would it be like to have a soulmate. 

Someone who could love me, who could look upon this face and truly love me. Someone who would hold me through the night, and keep me sleeping with no more nightmares. A woman who could look past what I've done, and see what I'm capable of in the future. A muse who would inspire my music and my paintings. A woman who would hold me tight and never let me go. A woman who would pillow her head on my lap, and look up at my face, my full face, in adoration, not a single drop of disgust in her eyes. 

I scream out my frustration, these were all dreams, illusions that would end up killing me if I don't end them first. The more you dream, the more disappointed you get when it all turns out to be a lie. My mind is trying to destroy me, from the inside out.

I threw my book across the room, watching as it hit the opposite wall then fell to the ground. I could still hear it echoing as I stomped over to the lake and climbed in the boat. I pushed off the shore and flew across the water to the other side. When I got out of the boat, I stalked my way through corridors barley used, paying a little extra attention so that I wouldn't lose where I was going. I could tell I was going the right way because as I approached, I could hear the ballet rats giggling getting louder and louder. I walked up to the hidden spot I have behind their wall and just listened in to their conversation. 

* * *

 

It was way past bedtime, but none of us really payed any mind to the time as Vivian told us about her soulmate.

"Oh it was truly wonderful, he was breath taking, and as I approached, I knew it was him because the feeling in my chest just got tighter and tighter. I felt like my heart was going to explode right out of my chest." She was probably exaggerating, but none of us cared as we pushed her for more details. Each girl giggling out questions for her over top of each other trying to find out more answers. Meg, me, and some of the other younger ballet girls sat on Megs bed a little away, but still listening intently. 

"His name is Jacob, he's got the most beautiful hazel eyes, and flowing brown hair." She had a dreamy look in her eye. 

"Perfect for grabbing and pulling?" Her friend, Charlotte laughed out implying something that I understood was sexual because of the playful glint in her eye, but not quite understanding why. Vivian picked up her pillow and launched it at Charlotte, hitting her in the face, all the while Charlotte just laughed. 

"Write something" one of the other girls cried out, "See if he replies." We all gathered closer to see as she wrote on her arm and his reply as he instantly wrote her back. We all giggled loudly, astonished at seeing soulmate magic in action before quickly quieting as we heard Madame Giry's footsteps approach. We all jumped in a bed, not worrying if it was our or not and pretended to be asleep. The door creaked open and light spilled in, outlining Madame Girys menacing figure in the door way. 

"I know you're up girls, and I know soulmates are interesting, but they won't be so interesting tomorrow when you're all drained as I push you twice as hard because of it. Go to sleep." Her figure disappeared and the door creaked close as she left. We all rose, going to our respective beds. 

"I wonder what it's like," Meg whispered to me as I got in my bed. She turned on her side to face me as I did the same, "To have a soulmate I mean, especially if your the older person in the relationship. The younger person will start getting your messages the second your 18, but you have to wait to know they're real. A wait spanning from days, to months, to maybe even years, just for that perfect person to come and fill the void in your heart."

"My Papa used to say, that if you live past eighteen, you have a soulmate, even if you don't know them, there's someone made for everyone." I said back. 

"Your Papa must have been very wise" she said before yawing and closing her eyes. 

"He was" I said to myself. I still miss him. I think about him everyday. His laugh, his music, the good times, and the bad. I don't have many memories of him because I'm still young, but what I do remember helps him live on. And I know he still watches and cares for me, for he sent me my Angel of Music, here to teach me and let the music live on through me. 

I pull up my sleeves, looking at the writing on it, trying to make out the music that lies there in the darkness. I run my hand down my forearm, tracing those words that I know reside there, then again across my covered diaphragm feeling the numbers that I've memorized so, but number that have no meaning to me and the words only bring on confusion. Through all of the writings that he has written, through all of the music and notes, these were the only two that stayed through it all.  I know I have a soulmate, I've had one for as long as I could remember, but I could never communicate with him because of my age. 

I turned to the edge of my bed, reaching under it, feeling for my fathers leather violin case for comfort before I fall asleep once more without a kiss on my forehead. 

* * *

"My Papa used to say, that if you live past eighteen, you have a soulmate, even if you don't know them, there's someone made for everyone." 

Those words echoed in my mind as I headed back down to my home. Going up there was supposed to make me feel better and clear my mind of things, not make things worse, but as I made the trip down the second time, I could feel as the hope resonated through me. I've lived past 18, doesn't that mean there's someone out there for me, a Yin to my Yang, or is this all just wishful thinking. 

Of course it's all wishful thinking, this is advice coming from a dead man, what can he know, he's dead. 

Though this dead man did find his soulmate, and with her, he created the perfection that is Christine, and without this dead man, I would have no more reason to live in life. 

Deciding that there was nothing more to do about this, I changed out of my day clothes, picking up my resting ones. Before I put them on, I looked down at myself. I could see the scars covering my stomach, disappearing into my breaches, before reappearing on my thighs and down my legs. I run my fingers over the numbers right over my diaphragm, the numbers that bring me back to a time I wish I could forget. I hold my arms out and look at them. The smudged writing of music and notes from the past days still can not cover the words running down my forearm, 'Le Mort Vivant' the living dead. I decide that I should get a bath and wash off all of the writings, start with a new surface tomorrow before covering it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at spelling and kind of bad at grammer so if there's any mistakes, just tell me and I'll fix them.


	2. Chapter 2

Pain ripped through me as the crack of the whip came down on my back. I opened my mouth to scream out in pain but nothing came out. Another crack, followed by another. I opened my eyes to look down at the wooden chair they had me lean up against. The wearing of it got into my hands and under my nails as I squeezed the chair harder with every whip, hoping that I'll squeeze so hard, the chair will break into a million splinters and shoot everywhere, killing the two men whipping me. Darkness surrounded me again as I squeezed my eyes shut again and another crack sounded, but no pain came. My eyes shot open in shock only to be met with eyes that match my own. 

I looked away from my face, not being able to bear to look at it myself, but I was only met with more of me. I started running, trying to escape this labyrinth, this misery, but to no avail. Every turn I made was just a new hallway of mirrors. I heard the glass shatter as I hit a mirror with my fist. I looked down to see blood and glass infused in my knuckles then looked up to see millions of little me looking back. But upon further inspection, I noticed they weren't me. The man staring back looked like me, had my same colorful mixture of eyes, but I had a full face. I turned around to get a better look at this man when I heard singing, beautiful singing. I turned and followed the sound hoping that it would lead me through my way of the labyrinth. As I got closer it got louder. 

* * *

I woke up in a cold sweat, panting for air. My lungs felt tight and the room was too closed in. I pushed the covers from on top of my legs and sung them over the side of the bed, feeling the fluffy black carpet that lay underneath. I stood up and looked at the clock. Quarter after four. Deciding that there was no going to sleep after that, I started to get ready. I went into my closet, which had a different array of clothes until you reached the very right, where there were a number of white dress tops, black suits and slacks, and a dark violet cravat. I grabbed one of those outfits and threw them over my bed, turning up the oil lamp so I could see what I was doing. 

After getting entirely dressed, I walked down the little amount of steps I had, through my living room, and into my kitchen where I made myself a hot cup of lemon water, soothing for the voice, and a nice wake me up. I sat down at the small table I had sitting in between the living area and my kitchen, and started reading the morning paper I got off the Populaires steps while I was waiting for the water to boil. Nothing interesting has happened, nothing interesting ever happens. Once I finished my tea, I walked up the steps again and into my music room. 

I sat down at the piano and pulled out the score for Don Juan Triumphant and started playing the loud and dark chords. After I played each one, I could still hear the chords reverberating throughout my underground layer.

It's loud, I know that, but to me, it sounds like a near masterpiece, a near masterpiece because something's missing. Something is always missing, and I can never place what it is. There's an emptiness in it. I always try to fill that with more runs, a new instrument, a new part, but nothing works. I sigh but keep playing, ignoring the hole that only I may hear.

Time went flying, I don't know how or when, but soon the clock chimed and I shot up from my seat, music flying with me. I had forgotten about the day, I hadn't eaten, hadn't watched to make sure Mr. LeFevre hadn't messed anything up. Though I must admit, he is quite good at running an Opera house, not perfect, but good. I ran into my kitchen to grab an apple to eat while I walked at a gingerly pace through the narrow passageways.

As I walked, I could feel the musty air as it flew past my face, then it hit me, at some point in time today, I had taken my mask off and hadn't realized it. I stopped dead in my tracks.

I couldn't go back, it would take too much time. I was already as late as it is, going back would only shorten her lesson time.

Though maybe she'll be late today and that would give me just enough time.

But she wasn't late yesterday, Madame Giry let her go early, probably because I threatened her if she didn't.

I continued on, it's not like she could actually see my face, all Christine can hear is my voice.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of music echoing through my head. This is a usual occurrence, so it didn't really bother me much, but today was different.

"Do you hear that?" Meg whispered to me. I was startled, not only did I not know that she was awake, but I always just thought that this music was in my head. A special melody from my angel for me, but she could hear it too, which meant it was coming from somewhere. "We should go look for it." Meg whispered mischievously. We both quickly got up out of our bed and tiptoed to the door with the elegance of two elephants.

The door creaked as Meg opened it. She started opening it slower in hopes to quite the squeaking. Once we made it out the door, we looked down the dimly lit hallway just as the clock chimed 5 o'clock. We still had another hour before everyone started getting up.

We wondered areas uncharted for us in order to follow this noise. It got louder at some points, giving us hope that we would finally find this mysterious musician, only to lead us to a dead end.

"What if it's the Phantom of the Opera, I bet he's behind it all, that's why were only being leaded to dead ends." Meg said finally after searching for about half an hour.

"There's no way Meg," I said as we turned a corner, trying to find our way back. "The Phantom doesn’t exist, it's not possible"

"Oh yeah, well then how do you explain the music, I mean it's still playing," We both got quite for a moment, listening into the dark, heavy chords coming from all around us. 

"If it really was the Phantom, don't you think he would have like, I don't know" I said waving my arms around, "killed us for sneaking around his secret corridors?"

"They're not so secret if they aren't barricaded, are they now" she said, putting her hand on her hip as we walked. We both looked up as Madame Giry came scrambling towards us, still in her night clothes. 

"Girls, what are you doing up, you scared me half to death when you weren't in your beds." 

"We were looking from where the piano playing was coming from," Meg said, matter of factually, "if you listen closely you can still hear it." All three of us became very silent, yet all we could hear was the bustling coming from around us. 

"No more of that, it is breakfast time, so go get ready and head down to the dining hall" Madame Giry said, then pushed us off in the direction of our room.   

It was empty when we opened the door, probably due to all of the other girls already being in the dining hall, eating. We both grabbed our clothes and started getting dressed. I turned my back to Meg in order to hide the marks on my body. Both my father and Madame Giry said that it would be better to postpone others finding out that I had soulmate marks already. The mark above my diaphragm was no problem hiding, it was the marks that were on my arms. Since the permanent one is only on my upper arm, I would only have had to wear sleeves down to my elbows, but since my soulmate is notorious for writing all over his arm, I always am seen wearing long sleeves.  This has been hard, especially during the summer seasons when it is hot in the ballet room, all the other girls are dancing around in totos and practically no top, while I have to dance in long sleeves and long stockings, which are usually black or else the blackness of the writing seeps through.  No one's ever really questioned me about it, they sometimes ask why I dance around on hot days in long clothes, but I just say I'm more comfortable in longer clothes and they leave it be. 

I looked at my arms in shock to find them clean of all ink. He must have washed up finally last night. I threw a long sleeved dress on and turned around to face Meg. We had breakfast with the rest of the girls, then got dressed again for ballet practice. Once lunch hit, my feet were already sore and I wanted so badly to get off them. We went into the dining hall for the second time today to get lunch. A substance unbeknownst to me was on my plate as well as a side of orange juice. We sat down at the far end of the table with the rest of the ballet girls and started eating our mush. 

"Uh, Christine" Meg giggled, "You seem to have something on your face." I laughed with her a wiped my mouth, going back to eating.

"Not there, silly," She giggled again, "Your forehead." My eyes shot wide open as I slapped a hand across my head. I stood up and excused myself, ignoring Meg's weird looks and headed towards Madame Girys room. 

I knocked once, twice, then let myself in, still holding my forehead. 

"Don't you have any manners, Child?" Said a man's voice. I looked up in surprise to see Mr. LeFevre talking to Madame Giry. I looked over to Madame Giry, who at first looked confused, but then her eyes showed she understood, and she quickly shooed him out of the room. I took my hand off my forehead to show her, still not knowing myself what was written on it. Her gasp worried me. 

"What is it, Madame Giry, what does it say?" I wanted to know if it was some sort of note, though who would write a note meant for the other person on their forehead?

"Well Christine, it looks like you've got yourself a musician as a soulmate." Madame Giry said in a slightly amused tone. "One who falls asleep composing, at that."   She wiped at my forehead in a feeble attempt to get the ink off, but to no avail. There was nothing else to do but to cover my forehead until he noticed and wiped it off himself. 

That's the worst thing about not being able to write back to him, I can't erase it either. Madame Giry handed me a large elastic headband that would both pull my hair back and cover my forehead inconspicuously. The only person who would really know why would be Meg, which probably wouldn't be a problem until she learned that I had been lying to her for years, but she'll get over that quickly.

I walked into the ballet room, avoiding Meg as much as possible without actually avoiding her. When practice started and we weren't supposed to talk anymore, I hung out around her more. She gave a weird look but let it pass for now, though I know she'll ask later. 

 

When the clock was nearing to five o'clock, I started getting anxious about whether I would make it on time to lessons. Angel sounded so happy yesterday when I was there right at the stroke of five, and I don't want to be late again. I practically ran out of the room when Madame Giry dismissed us, I nearly bumped into a few stage hands packing up for the day before their break. The door slammed open right as five hit on the clock.

"On time, but loud Christine,"

"Sorry," I panted. I could hear my breathing echo around the room as I tried to catch hold of it. 

* * *

 I was panting as quietly as I could, hoping that she couldn't hear me over her own. Those hallways seem a lot longer then I remembered them to be. I wiped my forehead of sweat with my black handkerchief and shoved it back into  my pocket.  

"Did you not have enough time to change, dear Christine, and what's that on your forehead?" I watched as she grabbed her headband in shock, then relaxed when she felt it there.

"Oh, uh, just part of my dance uniform today, there to keep my hair out of my face" I could tell that she was lying, not only did I know that that was Madame Giry's headband, she's just a terrible liar in general. I let it go, but only because we only have a short amount of time unless it's Sunday, which it's not. 

"Ok, warm up, then we'll pick it up where we left off."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only the second chapter, and i want to get on to the good part, but I also don't want to rush it and I'm just so conflicted right now. 
> 
>  
> 
> Again any mistakes, I'm open to fixing to make this a better story


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on Christine, it's been like ten years, we’re sixteen, you can't tell me that you don't know who you soulmate is again." Meg wined. We had just finished practice and Meg was going on about her tangent that I know who my soulmate is. She does this on a weekly bases, trying to pry something out of me that I don't know.

"First of all, it's been like seven years, and second of all, don't you think that if I knew who my soulmate was, you'd be the first person I'd tell?" I sassed back.

"Well I don't know what to trust about your soulmate status anymore considering you've lied to me about it since the first time we've met."

"We were six and I did as I was told, plus how was I supposed to know that you would react kindly to knowing your best friend has a soulmate who's fifteen years older than them or that you wouldn't go around blabbering your mouth, Meg you can't keep a secret to save your life."

"Come on, I'm not that bad" 

"If I really did know who my soulmate was and not tell you, I would sneak around, disappearing for hours in the night before returning, and I don't do that."

"Well you have disappeared every night for an hour or longer, especially if it is Sunday ever since you were seven." Meg said with a wink

"You know that's for my voice lessons, and there's no way that he could be my soulmate, and I was seven, you really think I was getting it on when I was seven?"

"I don't know what to think anymore, I don't even know you." Meg said with fake emotion added into her voice.

"Let us go Megs, for I am absolutely starved" I said with a fake posh accent. I held my elbow out to her and she grabbed it. We skipped down the hallway with our heads high, acting like we were that of the upper class. When we reached the dining room, we made a B line for the food, starved from practice.

"Speaking of lessons, how's it going? You don't tell me much about them, only that he's you Angel of Music." She said, exaggerating the last three words.

"It's weird, he's having me work on the aria from the Opera were working on. He seems to absolutely despise La Carlotta. Ever since she got here, he's been teaching me the lead female roles for the operas were are preforming." We sat down at the table, ready to eat our slosh, as something caught my attention. Though Meg, completely oblivious of my distraction, kept talking about how nobody liked La Carlotta's scratching.

"Meg," I said interrupting her, "Meg look, there's never been anything written on my hands, only smudges."

"Wow, he's left handed, or somebody else drew on him" Meg said in amazement.

"No, he's defiantly left handed, there's always smudges on my left hand."

"What do you think it says" Meg said, grabbing my hand a pulling it towards her face.

"I don't know looks like gibberish to me. It seems to be something in a different language."

“We should translate it.” Meg had a gleam in her eye, one that only shows up when she wants to be mischievous.

“And how do you intend to do that?” I truly didn’t see how it could happen, not in the amount of time that I know he’ll erase it in. If something is unlike him, it goes away quick.

“Well, let’s start with the obvious, it looks like it’s an address, just written in a different language. Let’s write it down in case he erases it and go searching for it. I’m sure with all of the music we have here, we can find on in a different language to give us some sort of hint.” Meg reasoned, “What if it’s his address?”

My heart skipped, what if it was? No, there is no way, he never, gives any hint about himself at all. The only things I have are what tattooed permanently onto my body. “Why would he write his own address on his skin?” I asked.

“Ok, maybe it’s not his, maybe,” she contemplated, “Maybe it’s a friend of his. They just moved, and they didn’t have any paper to write it down, so he used his hand.”

“Yeah, a ‘friend’” I said. It never really occurred to me that this man doesn’t actually know he has a soulmate. I know that if after almost fifteen years, nobody wrote back to me, I’d probably give up hope. I shook the thoughts from my head. It doesn’t matter because in pretty much one year, I’ll be eighteen and then I can start writing back.

There was an unspoken agreement between us that we would do it after dinner. We dived into our slush, rushing so that there was time in-between now and my lessons. Though, the time of them were pushed back two years ago since I was getting older and I was able to be in the real ballet dance crew, this gave us a slight bit more time.

After we finished dinner, we made our way to the music room, where all the operas from the past fifty or so years were stored. We started searching through with the little piece of paper, comparing text, yet none turned out successful. We gave up after an hour, a little because there was so much dust in our eyes and we could barely see, and because I needed to go to my lessons.

We giggled while walking down the hallway, talking about some of the stupid pieces we came across in there when a strange man approached us.

“Hello there pretty ladies, how’s everyone doing tonight.” His breath reeked of alcohol, and almost instinctually, me and Mag gathered closer, ready to protect each other.

“Joseph Buquet” He turned as Madame Giry said his name, “If you wish to see the day tomorrow, then I suggest you step away from my ballet girls.” She was scary, and she wasn’t even yelling at us.

“I’m not afraid of you, Giry, you’re all talk, but no play. I could have these two in a heartbeat if I wanted.” He was cocky, hopefully a side effect of the alcohol and not something that would be a constant, especially if he works here.

“Your heart would beat no more if you tried” Meg said, making him turn and me laugh. The look in his eye told me to stop, that he was quite serious.

“You think this is funny do you little missy,” He said look over at Meg.

“Buquet, do you wish to keep your job. I’m sure you do, nobody else would pay you handsomely enough to supply you with a constant flow of money to where you could by alcohol any more. Nobody hires an alcoholic, they only keep the ones they make. Now if you would like to keep your house and money, then you better not approach any of my girls again.” With every word, it seemed she got louder, and with every sentence, she got closer. It had me shrinking in the corner, although, that could also be because Buquets only direction to get away from Madame Giry was towards us two. Eventually after falling victim to her cold, hard stare, the stage hand walked away with a grunt.

“What are you two doing back here, what if I wasn’t here then what would you have done, you could have been in a big mess.” Though she was playing tough, I could tell she was really worried about us.

“We were just trying to translate what’s on Christine’s hand is all mom, nothing more.” Meg handed Madame Giry the napkin and she looked at it in confusion.

“It looks like it’s an address written in Persian.”   

* * *

 

“Nadir I told not to come looking for me.” I was angry, I’ve spent my whole time in this Opera House trying to get away from the past, and his presence brought it all back to me.

“Technically, my dear friend” He said with fake composure, “I didn’t come looking for you if I already knew where you were.” I knew I looked stupid with the surprise written on half my face, the other covered by a mask but I didn’t care. I’d been so tedious as to not leave any tracks behind after I got rid of this man in the first place, and yet he still followed me, without me knowing it too. “Now if it would please you so, could you let me down?”

“I wouldn’t need to let you down if you hadn’t come here in the first place. I set up the traps for a reason.” I looked at his face, it slowly turning red from being hung upside down for so long.

“Fine I’ll get myself down then,” he said. I watched as his old self tried to fold himself so he could reach the rope holding his foot in the air and cut himself down.

“Wow Nadir, you really are getting old, aren’t you. The younger you would have cut yourself down from there the second you got caught up, yet here you are. I’m pretty sure I heard your hip pop. Is your back feeling fine?” I couldn’t help myself but tease him as I reached around his struggling form and cut the rope, catching him on his way down.

“Laugh all you want now, Monsieur Phantom, but I give it five years until you’re the same as me.” He said sternly, straitening his clothes.

“Why are you even here old friend.” I said, looking down on him. “I thought I gave you strict instructions to leave me alone, forever, if I recall.”

“Yes, I know but remember I told you that if you need anything, you can come to me,” I nodded my head in acknowledgement, noting that I still have that little piece of paper with his address written on it in the back of one of my drawers. “Well I’ve moved and wanted to update that address.”  
“Really Nadir, I’m fine, I don’t need your help anymore.” I sounded like a teenager throwing a tantrum, but I didn’t care.

“I know you don’t, but you will.” He said smugly.  
“If I take the address, then will you leave” I blew out a puff of air as I said that, showing my annoyance with him, though it was easy to pick up without it.

“Yes, though, because of your trap, I seem to have lost the paper I’ve wrote it on.”

“Pity” I turned away, no longer caring about the conversation.

“Erik, get back here,” I froze at the use of my name, not having heard it in years. “Give me your hand, no doubt that you have paper in your ‘house’, I’ll write it on your hand, you write it on paper.” He said.

I sighed, knowing there was no way out of this one, and pulled off my glove, giving him my hand. I felt the press of the writing, then coldness as Nadirs hand pulled away. I looked at it, my brain taking a second to register what it says.

“Why in the world would you write it in Persian?” I questioned

“You know, I never was quite good at French.” At that, he turned and walked away from the conversation, careful of where he stepped as to not get trapped again.

I made my way back to my house, finding a small scrap of paper, copying the address down in French, before erasing it from my hand.

I had to be quick for it was almost Christine’s lesson time, only about an hour and a half before it starts, and it’s a long walk there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes, feel free to tell me.


	4. Chapter 4

She slouched, ready for me to scold her again for the botched note.

"Christine, you keep messing up because you're not focused. You're not breathing from your diaphragm, you're not supporting your notes, what's got you all worked up. Get it off your chest or put it to the back of your mind until lessons are over." I stated sternly.  We had a limited time, and she's wasting it.

"It's stupid, it's - it's nothing." She said in a feeble attempt to drop the conversation.

"It's obviously not nothing if it's got you this worked up about it. I can tell somethings wrong and it's showing in your singing." I said sternly hoping that her talking about whatever it is will get her focused. She huffed, knowing there was no getting out of this. 

"I turn 17 tomorrow, and I'm nervous about my soulmate." She said.

"Well you don't get your soulmate until you’re eighteen, correct?" I asked, I was fairly certain, I spent every waking day since I was eighteen waiting for something, and if my soulmate wrote something back when I was seventeen and then something happened, I would never know.

"Yes, it just, I don't want my life to change when I turn eighteen because I would officially have a mate, and they don't want pregnant ballerinas dancing around, they'll drop me the second I get married, I fear. What if, even if they let me stay, my husband doesn't let me preform any more. I don't want this to be the last year I spend at the Opera Populaire." Her eyes were glossed over like she was going to cry. "I don't want this to be my last year for lessons with you." She whispered under her breath, but I still heard it.

"Christine, I'll continue lessons with you as long as you want them, nothing will stop me but you." I paused, thinking. "Do you already have yours?"  I don't know why I asked, I don't want to hear the answer. As Christine got older, I started to notice more about her, how mature her face has gotten. How her voice changed, she could hit higher notes, but the lower ones started to disappear from her range, meaning we had to work harder to expand her voice down. I've noticed she's gotten older, but I didn't want to face the reality, I love her, but she will have someone else to love entirely.

"Yeah, I have mine, for a while now." My breath hitched in my throat, she was meant for someone, I was stupid to fall for her, I knew in the end it would fail. "I don't know much about him, he's been the mystery of my life for a while." she looked at her upper arm as if to say there was writing there. "I am proud to say he's some kind of musician.'' She laughed a sad laugh saying this. I could hear the pain in her voice. The Populaires all she's known, and to just give it up, throw it away for some boy.

"Christine, I can't say that everything's going to be okay, but what I can assure is that no matter what happens, I'll watch over you, now and always." I couldn't really though, and that's what hurt most. I couldn't leave from here and be condemned just because I want to stalk my student. She smiledat me through the mirror but it never reached her eyes. The clock chimed, and we both glanced to look at it as it rang throughout the room. She stood up and wiped herself off like there was dust on her, before walking to the door.

"Oh, and Christine," I called out to her, she paused, looking back with her hand resting on the door knob, "Happy Birthday." She smiled and bowed her head, then walked out and shut the door behind her.

I turned back, starting to make the long decent to my house. I was thinking hard in the silence, for that's all there is to do. In just one year, she'll probably be gone, her only chance to become famous will certainly disappear, which means I'll need to work fast to get her on stage. I can sabotage Carlotta, blackmail the manager, do something for Christine. I know it was her father's wish to get her on that stage, and while she's dancing on it, she not as known as she should be. She's always told me how she's wanted to sing on top that stage from the first time when she was in that chapel. She was crying, praying for her father's return. I yearn to make that wish come true, she should share her angelic voice with the world, it shouldn't be cast aside for that monstrosity La Carlotta. I've already taught her all the important parts of the main role, I should just teach her the little lines here and there, then she would be ready. I couldn't though, she would never know it was me, but she's not a stupid little girl anymore. If I were to teach her all the parts, tell her that the role was meant for her, she would put she pieces together.

I guess there's a little hope for her, if her soulmate is a musician like she says he is, then he should let her preform, if he was smart. I hope he will be good to her, she only deserves the best, not some trash from the street or failing composure, someone good for her. I hope she's given someone who will craft parts to fit her, like I did.

Aminita was specifically written for Christine to perform. It wasn't originally, but as time went on, I couldn't help it. I pictured her voice singing the songs I've written, crafting them perfectly like I know she would and all I could hear was beauty. I sat down at my desk once I crossed the lake and took my gloves off.

 

_Dear Mr. Lefevre,_

 

I wrote. I moved my hand down, ready to write the next line, but I couldn't think. I didn't know exactly where I was going with the letter. It was spontaneous, with nothing but longing for Christine to reach her goal, but even through it all, I knew she wasn't ready. She would freeze the second she saw that crowd, her voice would crack and she would be laughed at. I looked at my hand as it hooked around, covering the words before I took the paper and crumpled it up, aiming for the overflowing trash, full of failed compositions. 

I took off my mask before rubbing my face, then decided it was time to retire and went into my room to get changed from the tight clothes that I wear. Just because my face is a disgrace, doesn’t mean that the rest of me should be.

I climbed under the warmth of my covers, the sound of the lake lulling me to sleep. A needed sleep, I feel like I haven’t slept in days, all because of that reoccurring nightmare.

* * *

 

I shut the door behind me and headed towards the dormitories, going to change into something more comfortable then ballet clothes and slippers.  As I neared the door, I could hear laughing and giggling coming from inside, but no words. We whisper to stay quiet, but I never thought the giggling could be so loud.

I opened the door and was immediately affronted by Meg.

“Christine Daae, the Birthday Girl,” she screamed while the girls giggled.

“Come on Meg my birthday’s tomorrow, I’m still sixteen,” I went over to my bed, slipping my shoes off and grabbing something more comfortable.  

“Yes, but it’s a big day for you tomorrow, we have to do something other than ballet practice. It’s the last year before you go off to live happily ever after with your mysterious soulmate.” Meg said. I walked past her, chuckling, headed towards the privacy screen to get changed. I know they all think it’s weird that I still get changed behind the screen, but it’s there for a reason and I’m going to utilize it. The only person that really knows is Meg. I told her about the permanent marks, but never really went into full detail or showed her, but she knew I liked the privacy from prying eyes.

Not that I don’t love talking about soulmates, it’s just that all that ever really gets written on me are little blurbs, or smudge marks. Sometimes the writing is in a different language, but still really messy.

I threw the gown over my head after all of my tight restricting clothing was gone. I picked it up from the floor and walked back over to my bed, putting my clothes with the other dirty ones on the floor with it, making a silent note to myself that I should probably clean them.

“Christine,” Meg whispered to me, “Your hand.” She grabbed my left hand and awkwardly twisted it so I could see what was written on it. Though it was messy, I could decipher it from years of reading his hand writing. It meant something, it wasn’t aimless writing to me anymore. My breath hitched as my mind tried to think of someone who worked at or with this Opera House that could be my soulmate. To think I’ve been so close to them this whole time is insane, yet how could I have known? I looked up at Meg who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“We should find him.” Meg said quietly, so that no one else could hear us.

“How are we going to do that, all we have is the manager’s name, anyone could be writing him.” I reasoned.

“We can always go through his mail.”

“All of them probably start like this, and who’s to say that he’s going to send it today, or tomorrow. We could be waiting for days. One of those day’s he’ll catch us.”

“Then we intercept the mail man.” She said.

“And what, go through all of the Opera houses mail?”

“Yes, Christine, this is your soulmate. The one you were made for. You’re going to let some stupid rules stop you?”

“It’s not like that’s going to prohibit me from seeing him. I’ll meet him in one year, when I can finally write back.”

“Yes, but won’t that just eat you alive” Meg said, bewildered, “You’re so close to him, yet you want to wait because you don’t want to get in trouble.” She was starting to gather a crowd, but she didn’t seem to notice.   
“Drop it Meg,” I hissed. I know the other ballet girls have seem the smudges, but I’ve never talked about it, so they don’t push, but this will be what gets them going.

“No, Christine” Meg said, getting louder with every word. “If this was my soulmate I’d-”

“Well then it’s a good thing it’s not your soulmate” I yelled. The whole room went silent, staring at the two of us. I looked at Meg, her face showing the surprise that was written across mine. We’ve never fought, sure we’ve had little arguments, but those always lasted thirty minutes.

I grabbed Megs hand and pulled her past shocked faces and into the hallway. We walked down a little ways as to not be heard by prying ballet ears.

“I’m sorry Meg” I said finally after we stopped. “I shouldn’t have flipped out on you like that, it’s not right of me. I know you only want me to meet that special someone.”  
“No, Christine, it was wrong of me to pry. That and dragging everyone else attention to it.”

“No, I think I did that by myself.”

“I just envy you because you already have your soulmate, technically, and I don’t have any writings yet.” She looked down at her toes, obviously saddened by this.

“Maybe you’re just the older person in the relationship.” I said.   
“Yeah that or I don’t make it till I’m eighteen.”

“Stop that, of course you’re going to make it, and then were going to have a double wedding, I’m going to have a boy, you’re going to have a girl, and they’re going to be soulmates and all is going to be well.” She laughed, knowing that half of that was not going to happen.

“Then were going to grow old together, and when we die, were going to be buried in the same grave.” She laughed. “Happy Birthday Christine,”


	5. Chapter 5

I woke up on my birthday with faces gathered all around my bed. When I realized it was happening it was already too late. The other ballet girls had started pestering me about my birthday and my marks. You'd think this would happen next year when I'm actually eighteen, and can actually communicate. Yet this is something we always do.

"Oh, Christine, please let us see something, anything." a piercing voice cuts through the crowd, followed by many more in agreement. I sighed as I sat up, getting snickered at as I did so. All their attention shifted to where my collar bone connects with my shoulder, where my night dress fell down, exposing writing that said _'Birthday'._

They all giggled around me, but I didn't hear it as I pushed passed them to the mirror to get a closer inspection. Meg walked up behind me, a sad smile on her face as she put her hand on my shoulder. I turned around and looked at her, unsure of how to feel. My soulmate either knew somebody that had the same birthday as me, which was unlikely, or knew me enough to know my birthday.

Meg gathered me up in her arms, I tucked my head in her neck and cried out of confusion and frustration. I have no clue as to who it is. The only people I know of that know my birthday are the ballet girls, my family members, and the Giry's, and I hope that none of them are it, especially a family member. I haven't talked to them in so long, I don't even know who they are, and that would be gross. Plus, none these people would write that it's my birthday on themselves, they'd all remember.

Meg whispered little things into my ear, not sure what she was comforting me on. I pulled away and whipped my tears away, nodding to her before turning around and starting to get change. The other girls, though not quite sure why I was crying when my soulmate knew it was my birthday, talked among themselves. I grabbed my things before heading out to my practice room to get changed. 

I could sleep in there if I wanted to, there was a bed. It was supposed to be Megs room, but she doesn't know that. Madame Giry put Meg in the ballerinas quarters and had me stay in here right after my father died. Then, in order to keep me around and not have me be a maid or seamstress, she started teaching me to be a ballerina. I started sleeping in the female ballet rooms, but Madame Giry still insisted that if I keep the room, and not give it up to Meg. We spend some nights in there together, when one of us is having a bad day and we don't want the other girls to know what's happened. That is one of those days. It's all just so overwhelming, to have someone know, but not know yourself.

I went to close the door behind me, but upon seeing Meg in the door way, I stepped aside, a silent gesture that she could come in. She shut the door behind her as I put the clothes on my bed, my back turned to her.

"Christine-" She started, but I cut her off.

"Have you ever wondered what my permanent marks are?" She stayed silent, but I knew that would catch her interest. "They're the only things I know about my soulmate other then he's left handed, very artistic with both music and paintings, and he has some affiliation with the Opera House. Other than these things, he's a mystery to me. And yet he knows so much about me, how is that fair?" I asked, turning around. "The markings don't even mean anything to me, I don't know what they say, they make no sense to me." Through the look in her eye, I could tell she was curious to what the markings said. Silently, I lifted my night gown just below my breast to show her the numbers lining my diaphragm. 732917

It was like a weight of my chest, no one has ever seen them, no one be me. I felt her hand as they ran across the numbers before I let my dress fall. I then reached for the right sleeve of my nightgown, lifting it up over the words that adorned it. 'Le Mort Vivant'.

"The Living Dead." Meg said in confusion. I looked up at her in surprise, I never thought that he words would be French. Admittedly, after living here for so long, I can speak the language very well, but can only write simple words or any words that deal with music and ballet.

“The Living Dead?” I questioned with her, “What could that mean, and why would it be tattooed on to him?”

“I don’t know but we should go figure it out,” she stepped back as I grabbed my things, heading for the vanity curtain to change.   
“How do you suggest we do that,”  
“Go through old newspapers, something. I don’t know.”

“And what if he just really wanted to get it tattooed upon himself with no other reason to other then he can. There would be no newspaper article about it.”

“No, I feel like I’ve heard it before, that’s not a name you forget. And if I’ve heard it before, that means it’s probably in a newspaper somewhere.”

“Meg I’ve had this tattoo since I was three, who knows how far back you’d have to go to find something.” I tried to reason with her. I don’t want to read in the newspaper about something my soulmate has done. I don’t want that to be my first impression of him, because The Living Dead doesn’t sound like a very good title to have, and obviously something is wrong with him for him to have gotten this title. I also don’t care what that thing is, I’ll love him with all my heart because he’s my soulmate, but I don’t want that to be the reason I love him. I don’t want to fight with myself after creating a negative impression about him off of some stupid newspaper article. I want to hear it from him.

“I can ask my mom, I think she’s old enough to know” Meg said with a sly smile. I didn’t like involving Madame Giry in my hopeless search for my soulmate, but there was no persuading Meg out of this one.

* * *

 

“Happy Birthday Christine.” I said to her as she walked into the room.   
“You remembered” She said, closing and locking the door behind her.

“How could I forget, this year marks almost ten years of your lesson.” It was a terrible thing to bring up since I found her the night of her father’s funeral and we hadn’t started lessons until a week later, but it was still an important moment. “And hopefully this will mark one year from your debut performance,” I said to try and deter from the awkward topic. She blushed and looked down at her feet.

“We’ll see,” is all she said. I could see there was something else bothering her, but I didn’t push it, starting our lessons.

 ***

There was defiantly something wrong, I decided, but it was probably just her soulmate again. I let her up easy for her lessons, not wanting to hurt or upset her on her birthday. Not that I’d want to do that to her any day of the week. I followed her foot falls back to her dormitory where I assumed she was getting changed out of her ballet clothes. I heard the door creek open, then closed as whispers filled the room. I’m not sure why they were whispering, Meg and Christine were the only two in the room, it really just inconvenienced me.  

I decided that waiting in there wouldn’t lead me anywhere good as to why Christine is down on herself all of the sudden, so I waited my ‘hallway’. It was about five minutes later that I saw the Giry girl and Christine pass by my peep hole. I followed them to Madame Girys room.

I was disappointed at first. That’s Meg’s mother and their ballet teacher, of course they’d go to her with any problems they have, but I still stayed. I heard a knock on the door, then Madame Giry call them in.

“Mom,” Meg started

“Madame Giry,” Said Christine, I looked through the peep-hole; one that Madame Giry would kill me if she found out about, to see Christine in a modest nightgown with a shawl over top. “I have something regarding my soulmate.”

At that, Madame Giry put down her pen and took of her glasses, putting her full attention on the girls.

“It has come to my-our attention,” She said, waving her hand between Meg and herself, “That you may know something about one of my more permanent ones.” Permanent marks? Does everybody have permanent marks? I guess they’re something, hints maybe to lead you to find the one before you should. Birthday’s maybe, where they were born, their mother’s maiden name, something like that. If people do have permanent marks, then I know for sure that I don’t have one. The only permanent marks I have are the scars on my body and the tattoos that people gave me. I wonder if tattoos show up on the other person, if they do then it’s quite a good thing I don’t have one. That would surely confuse them, two of the many titles I held, none of them very good.

I looked back through the peephole to find Christine taking her shawl off, facing her right arm towards Madame Giry. I looked at Christines pale arm, realizing that I’ve never actually seen them before. She’s always wearing something to cover them, she always has. I never questioned it, I wore clothes covering all of me, though not that anybody sees me. How long has she been hiding a soulmate, I wonder. How much older than her is he? When she said she’s had a soulmate for a while, I didn’t think she meant that long of a while.

Just as I was finally making out the words on her arm, my old eyes letting me down, Madame Giry stepped in front of her, blocking my view. I cursed her silent before listening in again to see if she’ll say anything regarding it.

“No, I’ve never heard of those words before. Well yes I have, but never in that order.” Madame Giry rambled. Now I know something is up. I’ve known the woman long enough to know that she rambles when she lies, and if the Giry girl has any sense she’ll know that too. I guess she’ll never disobey her mother, for Madame Giry is a force to be reckoned with, I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Well then where have I heard the words before, Mother? I could have sworn you said something about this. An long time ago-“  
“Enough,” The older Giry yelled, instantly silence the younger one. “I told you I’ve never heard of those words before, therefore I have not. Now if you will please, I have work to do.” She turned around and sat at her desk, the other two walking towards the door, heads held in shame. “Christine,” She said, stopping her in her tracks. “You’ll know your soulmate the second you see him, especially if you look hard and not at all.” And with the wave of her hand, the other two girls were gone.

Just as I was about to head back down, I heard Madame Giry whisper something, but I shook it off as nothing, blaming it on my bad hearing; for I could have sworn she said my name.


	6. Chapter 6

"Christine, have you heard the rumors?" Meg said approaching me. "Mr. Lefevre is going to retire."  
"And I assume that these rumors are true because you were eavesdropping on your mother?" I said jokingly.

"That is exactly how I found this out."

"Meaning that they're not rumors."

"Precisely" Meg said laughing. We were walking through the dinner line, getting the gross food I've learned to stuff down with little complaining now.

"Hopefully when the new manager comes in, he'll get better food for us." I said.

"I don't know what you mean Christine, I think this food is delectable." Meg said in jest as we sat down at the dining table. I looked down the table to see the little training ballerinas cringing through eating their food.

"I remember being that young, looking up at the girls our age, listening in on the conversations, trying to be more mature then we actually were. What I would give to have those days back." I chuckled and looked at Meg.

"You say that like you're old." Meg said "Almost eighteen isn't old. I wish I was eighteen."

"You only want your soulmate."

"Well some people aren't lucky enough to have theirs since they're three."

"Truce" I said laughing. "Meg, it's not like you have that long until you're eighteen, only two months."

"Yes, two months of watching you be all cute and cuddly with your Mr. Perfect, all the while I wallow in self-pity."

“You’re always wallowing in self-pity, Meg, it won’t change when Christine gets her soulmate.” Jammes said as she sat down next to her. Meg playfully slapped her arm in hurt. The former girl laughed before turning to me. “So Christine, what are you planning on doing tomorrow?”

“What do you mean? We have ballet practice, then I have lessons. I’m going to bring something with me to write to my soulmate, but I’m not planning on meeting him tomorrow.” I explained.

“No, I mean what is your first thing you’re going to write to him going to be? I know the first thing I made sure my soulmate saw was a flower I drew on my wrist the eve of my birthday. Though they still aren’t eighteen and it’s been two years,” she paused, dissipating her signs of anger at their age, “At least they knows they have one.”

I never actually thought about doing anything like that, though it is genius. Instead of just writing ‘Hello, My name is Christine, what’s yours?’ You draw something to let them know.

I stared off into space, wonder about what to draw. A flower, to common; a ballet shoe, too hard, I’m not an artist. The best thing to do would be to draw something music related because I know us both like that. I smiled, wishing I could see the shock on their face when I finally write something to them, after fifteen years of waiting for it. It may be a bit awkward though, having somebody so much older than me as my soulmate. They’ve probably done so much in the world, yet all I’ve done is stayed cooped up in the Opera house.

“Christine, are you there?” I heard Meg say as she waved her hand in front of my face. “Gosh, I’ve been trying to get you attention for like five minutes now.” I blushed and looked down, embarrassed that my mind wondered off.

“Meg it’s been like thirty seconds, calm down.”  
“I can’t calm down Jammes, I’m already losing her. Look, she only gets that smile she gets when she’s thinking about her soulmate.” Meg exclaimed, pointing at me.

“No I don’t” I fought back.  
“You do too. When you talk about him, think about him, look at the writing on your arms, you get a gentle little smile and a gleam in your eye. I’ll tell you, he is a lucky man.”

We stood up as the clock struck, meaning that we should really get out of the dining room as to not get yelled at by the lunch ladies. We threw out the rest of our food on the way out the door. We idly talked as we walked to the ballet rooms.

When we got there, I sat down at my bed, trying not to get to comfortable since I had lessons soon. I looked around me as the girls gathered, hoping me to tell them more about my soulmate. This happens the night before and after a girl in the ballet rats turns eighteen. We all gossip a lot, about a lot of things. Curious young minds clashing together with older ones telling them secrets of the world.

“I don’t have much to tell you” I said.

“You always say that, Christine.” One of the younger girls said.

“Yeah, come on, we’ve seen how much ink you have on your arms, you must have tons to tell us.” One of the other little ones said.  
“That ink is only music or illegible scribbles, nothing much noting about.” I said, trying to turn them away from me.  
“Fine, but tomorrow you aren’t getting out so easy” Jammes said, mimicking them. They finally left me alone to change out of my dirty clothes. I threw on a pair of pants and a shirt, tucking my hair in a hat before throwing on a pair of shoes. I do this every Sunday night when I go out to see my father. It’s safer for me to dress as a boy in the late hours before returning for lessons or bed, depending on what time I go out. However since my birthday is tomorrow and I won’t be able to go out, I’m doing it today.

I’ve started doing this since I was thirteen, when a strange man approached me and wouldn’t leave me alone. However, nothing happened that night, well not much I can remember. After the strange man approached me and talked and sized me up a bit, my vision was engulfed in black and a cape that was draped about      my head. I couldn’t hear anything over my screaming, the cape was heavy and hard to get off. I collided with a body, hitting the floor and knocking myself out. I woke up the next day in the Opera house’s informatory, so I assumed that he must have recognized me, but it was weird I didn’t know who he was. He didn’t make single sound the entire time I was in his presence.

I tried to quietly walk out the door. It isn’t a long walk to the cemetery -only a skip and a half away- but it’s not in the greatest part of town, so I take precautions.  I opened the gate to the cemetery, cringing as it squeaked, and walked inside. My father’s tomb stone was a cheap one, planted in the ground with very little to his name. It was sad, but it was all I could afford. I kneeled down in front of it, placing a flower I picked along the way on top of the tomb stone, and started talking to him.

“Hi, father, um, as you know tomorrow is my birthday- my eighteenth birthday, which means I meet my soulmate tomorrow or really, I can start coming in contact with him. I hope he’s good to me, I hope you would have approved of him. I still don’t know him yet, but less then twelve hours away makes me feel like I do. I wish he could have met you, I’m sure he would have loved you like a father. I’m doing well in my lessons, the Angel of Music you sent me said so. He reminds me of you, not in personality, and I doubt he has a physical form of a human, but knowing that you sent him brings a smile to my face every day. He said he’ll always watch over me, so all I ask is that you do, too.” I always feel awkward when speaking to him, and I always feel like someone is watching me. I look around my surroundings, seeing only the dark lit night, before standing up. I wipe the dirt off my clothes and make my way back to the opera house to get changed before my lessons.

I make it priority to keep my father updated on my life, even if he can’t really hear me, it makes me feel better that he knows. I have missed him every day since his passing, my only physical reminder of him being his violin case which still sits under my bed. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play more advanced. My father taught me how to play a little when I was younger, but mainly focused on my voice, saying I had a voice like my mothers. Though he said I reminded him of my mother all around. My chocolate brown eyes, my thick curly hair, my singing voice, everything he said. In silent times when I’m free, I take the violin out of its case with an idea to play, but end up not doing so in fear of breaking it.  I have snuck into the instrument room at the Opera house and played one of the spares, but I don’t do that much in fear of getting caught.

I quickly got changed out of my pants and shirt, and threw a soft, cotton, baby blue nightdress on with a white sweater over top before heading out to my lessons. They were only down the hall and around the corner, but I should still really leave with more than one minute left before my lessons start.

I ran into the room, as usual, and shut and locked the door behind me.

“Right on the clock, Christine.” My Angel said.

“I try to be” I said, a little out of breath. I walked over and stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. I noticed I have dirt on my face and try to rub it off, only to rub more on from the dirt on my hands. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, I gave it one last attempt, using my sweater before dropping my arm as he started speaking.

“I have heard that soon you will be starting Hannibal, and I know that the Female soprano has a wonderful aria in it, I figured it would do you good to learn that. It is beautifully written, but repetitive and which makes it a little hard at the beginning. Plus, I thought this could help you on your staccato, since you’ve worked up a bad habit to not push through your diaphragm.” He explained.

I started my warmups, a small smile adorning my face as I did so. Even though that comment was supposed to be a hash at me, I just couldn’t find a reason not to smile. I was happy for some reason. Maybe it was because I was singing, finally, today, or maybe it was because my birthday is tomorrow.

We went through the song, stopping every couple of bars for him to critique me until it sounded perfect, then we’d move on and repeat the same process. Surprisingly, I wasn’t as distracted as I thought I was, and if I was, he didn’t seem too bothered by it, and he’s one to voice his distaste.

We were jolted back to reality when the clock struck the hour. Abruptly stopping my singing, we both stood in an awkward silence, unsure of what to do next.

“Ah-hem” He cleared his throat to try and end it. “Your last lesson as a seventeen year old, hope I made it a good one because” be cut himself off there, ‘because it may be the last one you’ll get’ the unsaid words that held in the air. We both knew that after I get my soulmate, who knows what’ll happen to me. Will he take me away from here, or despise me because of the rumors about ballet girls that they all sleep around?

“No matter what happens, Christine, I wish you a Happy Birthday.” His voice was smooth, and it sent shivers down my spine.

“Thank you Angel, and I will see you tomorrow.” I bowed my head before leaving the room. I shut the door and leaned against it, breathing out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The happiness that I felt in the room was washed away with a wave of sadness and nervousness. Getting a soulmate could mean changing my whole life to revolve around him, and I don’t want to do that. I want to continue being a free spirit, I don’t want to be controlled.

I pushed off of the door and made the walk back to the ballet dorms. The girls were getting ready for bed, changing into nightgowns, something I already did. I lightly shoved my way through them, making my way to my bed. I sat cross legged on it and grabbed a pen from my bed side table, holding it for a second, before pressing it to my wrist.

When I lifted the pen from the inside of my left hand, a G clef stared back at me. It was a little weird looking, considering the material I had to write on and that I can’t draw a G clef very well. I placed the pen back on my bed side table, smiling at the blackness against my pale skin before turning over and falling asleep.

* * *

I woke up in the morning, my mind taking a second before realizing what day it was. I looked around and noticed sleeping people all around me. I remembered back when I was young and I would wake up first, I would listen closely to hear My Angel of Music play piano. Though, after Meg and I went searching, I wasn’t so sure it was my Angel and not the infamous Phantom of the Opera. None the matter, I still listened through the silence for music.

It was a gentle tune, one that invoked so many different emotions at once, but the main one was love. I could feel the longing for a love, the miserable chords ringing in the air, barely noticeable. I got up out of bed, following the sound to my lessons room. I sat on the spare bed, trying not to cry from all of the emotion that was in the simple playing. I lost track of time, because time didn’t exist where this song took me to. My wrist was covered in smudged ink, but you could still tell the shape that lies there. I cradled my hand, looking at the drawing before the music abruptly stopped. I looked up in shock, then when I looked down again, the G clef was more smeared at the top, like he had tried to see if he could erase it. I smiled with the idea that my soulmate now knows I exist.

Meg came bursting into the room, a look of relief crossed over her face as her eyes found me.

“Gosh Christine, where have you been? We were going to pester you about your soulmate when you woke up, but when I did you weren’t there. Obviously this is the first place I checked, but I thought your soulmate had gotten you already and you left without saying good bye.” She rambled. I stood up and walked over to her, steering her out the door and closing it behind me.

“I’d never leave without saying good bye, you know that Meg.”

“Well then come on, the girls still have questions and we still have practice.”

We made our way to the stage to practice after we got changed into our outfits. As we warmed up and stretched, the girls would stare at me and giggle, but I got asked no questions, to my relief. All the girls were talking, but stopped immediately as Madame Giry entered the room, knowing it was down to business with her.

Practice went by excruciatingly slow, and about half way through, I got a little irritable.

I already knew that within a couple hours of you turning exactly eighteen, you start to get more and more connected with your soulmate. Little by little, the writing on your body will start to get dark the closer you are to the age. That’s why this morning, he could actually see what was written on my skin, but we’re not going to be fully connected until I do. Each couple has a different connection ranging from feeling each other’s feelings to being able to read each other’s minds. The connections aren’t unique to each couple, but the stronger your bond, the stronger the connection.

I don’t know what time exactly I was born, but my father always said it was right before lunch because he remembered being hungry all throughout my birth. As time ticked on, I started to become more anxious, and it is was showing in my dancing. Whenever something is weighing me down, I stop being able to focus on anything else going on around me. 

“Christine, are you okay?” Meg whispered to me.  All at once, an excruciating pain hit me. I collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain and could hear my voice scream out in agony. Then, it felt like I was watching the scene fold out from afar. I could see myself looking lifeless on the floor, all the girls huddled around me with Madame Giry checking for a pulse. She yelled for someone to get me to the infirmary while she screamed out for others to call a doctor.

Meg was crying, for I truly looked dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're all just going to pretend that Christine is privileged enough to have a fountain pen because I feel like it makes more sense then writing on your skin with pencil or a quill.  
> Also, any mistakes at all, just tell me and I'll fix them.


	7. Chapter 7

“No matter what happens, Christine, I wish you a Happy Birthday.” I say as steadily as I could. She shivered, most likely due to a chill going through the room that I can’t feel due to being on the other side of the mirror.

“Thank you Angel, and I will see you tomorrow.” She emphasized the will, as in countering my earlier statement that this may be her last lesson. She then bowed her head and left her room. I let out a shaky breath before turning around and heading back down to the dark depths of my home.

I would hope it’s not her last lesson, she still has so much more improving to do. Though I must admit, her voice is perfect as it is, she could get any part she wanted, there was just always improvement to be made.

But neither of know if this will be her last lesson or not. Neither of us could assure that we’ll see each other tomorrow, or the next day and thereon. I sighed and rubbed at the exposed part of my face, almost stepping in a trap. I just hope that the person she is destined to knows just how lucky they are. To have someone as perfect and as pure as Christine.

How many times have I wished it was me? How many times have I composed symphonies of love and adoration for her, one’s that she’ll never hear? Late nights and early hours of the morning. Truth be told, I’ve always played whenever I’m not watching over the Opera House, I find it calming, but over the years, they turned from the dark and depressing tunes of Don Juan to Christine. All of my thoughts encapsulating her, her beauty, her passion, just her.

My thoughts are interrupted as I see a faint light, piercing through the darkness. My home. I steer my way to the lake side, hoping out and closing the gate with a trigger. Exhausted from going days without sleeping, I decide that I should get a short rest. Hopefully since I haven’t slept in a while that I’ll be so tired there are no dreams.

I rid myself of the fine fitting clothes and change into a pair of silk, lose fitting pants before climbing into bed. I take my mask off, it being uncomfortable to sleep in, and pull my blankets over my shoulders before falling into a deep slumber. I left a candelabra lit on the opposite side of my room, considering I’m a rowdy sleeper, for when I wake up in the morning. Despite me living in the darkness under the Opera house, I don’t like the dark very much. I reminds me of what I was and the torture I lived through.

* * *

 

Pain ripped through me as the crack of the whip came down on my back. I opened my mouth to scream out in pain but nothing came out. Another crack, followed by another. I opened my eyes to look down at the wooden chair they had me lean up against. The wearing of it got into my hands and under my nails as I squeezed the chair harder with every whip, hoping that I'll squeeze so hard, the chair will break into a million splinters and shoot everywhere, killing the two men whipping me. Darkness surrounded me again as I squeezed my eyes shut again and another crack sounded, but no pain came. My eyes shot open in shock only to be met with eyes that match my own. 

I looked away from my face, not being able to bear to look at it myself, but I was only met with more of me. I started running, trying to escape this labyrinth, this misery, but to no avail. Every turn I made was just a new hallway of mirrors. I heard the glass shatter as I hit a mirror with my fist. I looked down to see blood and glass infused in my knuckles then looked up to see millions of little me looking back. But upon further inspection, I noticed they weren't me. The man staring back looked like me, had my same colorful mixture of eyes, but I had a full face. I turned around to get a better look at this man when I heard singing, beautiful singing. I turned and followed the sound hoping that it would lead me through my way of the labyrinth. As I got closer it got louder. 

I slowly and cautiously made my way through the mirror maze, making sure to remember every turn I took. I followed the singing until I reached a dead end, then I’d turn around and try again. Every turn I took, my vision was filled with the horrid sight, though I don’t know how I found it so horrifying. I’ve always wanted to be normal, no other name then my given.

Finally I made it to the owner of that voice. A young girl, about twenty, stood away from me, surrounded by broken mirrors, none of which reflect her face. I turned around to find no exit, nowhere to go but towards her. She stood confidently, playing with her brown curls, running her fingers through knotted locks. Her humming stopped as she half turned to face me.

I stared in shock as Christine stared back at me, then in horror as she completely faced me. The left side of her face looked normal, my subconscious completely encapsulating her beauty, but the right side was deformed, in a way mirroring my own.

* * *

I woke up with a start, gasping for air. I tried to forget the image, still clear in my mind. I grasped my almost burnt out candelabra, and ran around in a flurry trying to light all of the lights in my house. Once not a shadow was left, even in the darkest corner, I sat down, trying to rid my mind of my dream.

Christine, my poor Christine, I know that the dream wasn’t real, when I see her for lessons tonight, she’ll be her perfect self, happy, graceful, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Is that what she would have looked like had I not been born a monster? The idea disgusted me.

I got changed, noting it was only four in the morning, then went to my piano. I sat there aimlessly, just staring at the contrast of the black from the white, playing simple little tunes that everyone knows on the piano. Though, those tunes started into a composition, one of longing and pain as the image rushed back to me. The song, so simple, yet so much was put into it.

I play for no one, since no one can hear me from down here. The song went on for what felt like ever, yet, it had only been an hour or so. It repeated itself a lot, but it’s hard to come up with a different phrase every thirty minutes. I wouldn’t write it down, if it was going to be remembered, it would only be remembered by my mind.  

Then, out of the corner of my vision, something caught my eye. On the inside of my left wrist, right where my sleeve pulled up, was a black smudge. I wrestled with my sleeve to get it about my wrist so I could see the drawing clearly.

On it, was the treble clef. It was a little off looking, due to it being drawn on skin, but still decipherable. I rubbed at the top a little, and was shocked as it smudged.

 _I must have drawn it there_ , I thought, but then it occurred to me that I’m left handed and it’s on my left wrist, so it would be impossible for me to do that. I also don’t remember doing it.

I laughed in distress, I didn’t know what to do. I spent my whole life thinking I was going to die alone, and I had finally come to terms with it, but now I’m not. Now I have somebody waiting for me.

This must just be some cruel joke, no one could ever see past horrid face, a face even my mother couldn’t love. I threw my sleeve back down over my wrist before grabbing my cloak and leaving, hoping to get my mind off of this issue.

When I reached the tunnels built into the walls of the opera house, I headed straight to the managers room.

“Madame Giry, I have a meeting and you have practice, don’t you think that it is time for you to take your leave?” Said Mr. Lefevre, clearly annoyed with the woman standing before him.  

“Fine, but mark my words, none, absolutely none of these girls are to be kicked out.” She said sternly before turning around and leaving. Out of all of the people in the world, Madame Giry is probably the one that could ruin everybody in this establishment most, including me. She is also the most terrifying out of everybody, also including me.

I watched as Mr. Lefevre put his head in his hands and sighed before straightening himself up again as a knock sounded at the door.

He welcomed in two men, generally old, white, standard, boring men. They shook each other’s hands before taking seats around the desk in the office.

“Okay men, straight to business, on what has become to be the most important note, none of the ballerinas or chorus girls are to lose their jobs. That is final unless you want to take it up with the person making that decision yourself.”

“Of course, some of them will have to go, budget and all.” The one old man said, laughing and nodding with the other.

“No, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well why not, we want to keep this establishment running, and having to many cast members will not do both that and keep a hearty amount of money in our pockets.”

“Trust me, ballerinas and chorus members are the least of your worries money wise.” Mr. Lefevre said before looking around, presumably talking about me.

It’s true, I practically rob this place, but Carolotta is still alive, so we’re all happy. They continued talking business, and I was getting the feeling that these men were going to over step their boundaries by the time this deal was done.

My attention was turned away from the meeting as a horrid screaming cut through everything I heard. With a quick glance through the peep hole as I turned, I noticed how the three men in the room before me must not have heard it for they didn’t not move at all. I quickly made my way to the stage, following the ruckus.

In the rafters of the seating area, I watched as a ballerina rat was lifted off the stage by two stage hands. She looked worse for wear, her face pale while also stuck in a pained expression. Meg and the rest of the ballet girls looked distraught, tears falling from their eyes. Madame Giry, on the other hand, was glancing around herself, frantically, as though some one was about to attack her. She dismissed the girls for lunch, then ran off the stage, presumably to the infirmary where the girl is headed.

I shrugged it off, assuming that it was probably just an accident that happened during practice, she probably broke her foot landing a jump wrong. I continued on with my stalking around the back stage area, especially watching the perverted stage hands. I may be a killer, but raping anyone is never okay, so I will never let it happen under the roof of my Opera house.

The day felt long, boring, and as I looked, I couldn’t find Christine. I figured she would show for her lessons as she does every night, but she wasn’t with the other ballet girls. Then maybe that she was just out for the day, maybe with her father, spending it with him, then it hit me.

She was probably out with her new soulmate. I assume she wrote to him as fast as she could, wanting to meet him. Though shocked that she would jump at that opportunity to leave her home like that, it wouldn’t surprise me. Christine is a romantic who has been all over soulmates ever since I knew her. Maybe I’m wrong and she is here, or perhaps she’ll show up for lessons tonight and drone on about how her new lover is perfect.

I made my way to Christine’s dressing room with a little semblance of hope that I was just being blind all day and she was here. Though, after I made it there, and every second that passed after that, the hope would start to disappear.

I looked up as the door started to jingle, hope replenished, then quickly exterminated as Madame Giry walked into the room. I instantly opened the mirror, and noticed how distressed she looked.

“I assume you don’t know what happened today considering I’m still standing.” She said.

“Not a clue what you’re talking about Madame Giry.”

“Uh, Christine will not be attending practice tonight,” I knew it, she’s gone “because she is in the infirmary.” She finished. I looked up in utter shock. She’s sick, and this whole day, I thought she was giving herself to her new soulmate. Though happy that she’s still here, I was immediately worried.

“I’m going to go see her.” I said, beginning to turn around and head into the passage ways before Giry grabbed on to me. “Let go of me woman”

“No, you mustn’t go, she is passed out,”

“All the more reason, she won’t see me”

“You can’t, I won’t allow it.”

“Why not.” I insisted

“Because I said no.” She pushed back.

“You cannot control me woman” I was starting to get very angry, how could she stop me?

“I’m am doing this for both your sakes, just stay put or I will guard her bed personally.” I looked back at her before sighing in defeat. This woman always gets her way, I swear.

“Can you at least tell me what happened.” I asked quietly, not looking at her.

“We’re not sure yet, but we think it has something to do with her soulmate.” At that my head shot up, staring directly into her eyes. She flinched back as I got angrier.

“I’ll kill that man. How dare he do anything to hurt a hair on her body.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose” she tried to talk some sense into me.

“How do you know?” I whipped back.

“Because I do, just trust me on this.” She said, before walking out the door, closing it behind her and locking it from so no one could get in. I sat down on the side of Christine’s bed, my head in my hands, and thought.

What could her soulmate have possibly done from afar that could have harmed her while she was in practice? How could I have not noticed that it was her being lifted off that stage? Is my eye sight really getting that bad?

I ripped my hands off my face in disgust as I looked at the salty liquid on them. I whipped the rest of the water from my eyes before leaning back on the bed and shutting my eyes, thinking about all the possibilities of what happened to Christine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUSPENSE, what happened to Christine? 
> 
> As always, any mistakes, just tell me.


	8. Chapter 8

The universe plays a cruel joke, putting those two together. A cruel joke and a dangerous game. Two people so careful to trust, so careful to love, because both have been hurt in the past in different ways. Two people, broken to the core, hiding behind facades, the only people they trust are each other even though the biggest lie is held between them.  Two people who already love each other, but won’t find that out in fear of being thrown out again.

He, too naïve, and she, to unknowing, neither will find out unless a little push was there. And I, being the only person who knows those to fit together like a puzzle.

I knew she and he were destined for each other the second I saw those fateful words written across her arm when she was just young. A shy girl, hiding behind her father’s arm and violin case, too scared to let the world see her young innocent face. I saw those words once before on a stormy night through a torn and wet excuse for a shirt.  

Then when Christine and Meg came to me with questions about her mark - it’s a wonder how it took that long for them to be asked – I didn’t know how to answer. Do I expose him, do I tell her, but I just faked ignorance, hoping that with enough assertion, they would leave it alone.

But with what happened during practice today, what do I tell Christine? How do I hide the truth from Erik? They have to find their way to each other, and it would probably knock Christine right out again if she found out the person she’s been calling an Angel her whole life is not really an Angel but her soulmate. It’s already going to be a shock that her soulmate gave her enough scars to cover her entire body.

I watched as Christine was picked up by the stage hands, her hair falling away from where I put it covering her face. I rushed after them after barking more instructions at the people standing around gawking at what just happened. When I reached her, I put a handkerchief over her face, hiding the new marks covering it. 

After they put her down on the infirmary bed, I shooed them all out of the room, knowing they’d want to get a look at the unconscious girl. The doctor came rushing over at all the ruckus we’ve made entering.

“What’s happened to her” the doctor said after the stage hands left, staring at the cloth covering her face.

“I believe she passed out because of pain.” I said.

“She’s a ballerina? Well what’d she do, roll her ankle?” He said starting to inspect her foot.

“No doctor, I believe it has something to do with her soulmate. Today’s her eighteenth, and I believe she turned almost exactly five minutes ago.” At this, I lifted the handkerchief off her face. The doctor gasped before looking at me incredulously.

“And you’re sure her face wasn’t like-“

“Of course I’m sure her face wasn’t like that before, I raised her like my own daughter.”

“Well then let’s see what other scars are left here.”

“Only what you can see now please.” I sat down on the bed next to her, watching him closely. I barely saw, as he went down her body, the white lines covering practically every inch.

It saddened me, to see her suffering marks from a life she didn’t live. Also, Erik is going to beat himself up when he pieces together what he unknowingly did. Though right now I don’t think he knows or else I wouldn’t be here, I’d be having a one way argument with him yelling at me.

I know I can’t tell either of them the truth because they won’t know what to do with it. I need to give them both a little push or else they’ll never find out. Erik doesn’t think he has one, and Christine will need some time to recover from this.

But how?

Meg.

I probably won’t even need to do anything.

I do need to keep Erik away because if I don’t, when he sees her face, he’ll never look at her again or forgive himself and that would break her.

I sighed and put my head down in my hands before excusing myself to think about how to control Erik. He’s defiantly a force to be reckoned with, but he’s also scared of me since I am like the mother he never had.

* * *

 

After fighting with him, I went back to my office to think about the day. Soon will be the production of Hannibal and I was hoping to get Christine and Meg parts in it, but now I may hand it over to one of the other worthy girls.

Hopefully Christine will recover before the opening night so she can at least be in one scene. Honestly, she’ll probably wake up tomorrow, but then she has to cope and be more comfortable in her new body. She’ll probably want to learn every scar, and she may still be sore.

Though, she’ll never want to go on stage looking like that, no one would accept her, if I’ve learned anything from Erik’s life.

I guess we could cover it with makeup. It’s just a faint shadow, it’s not like she’s actually missing parts of her face like him. Covering it up may not be a bad idea.

I look up as a knock sounds at my door. I yell for them to come in and am shocked to see my daughter, considering she always barges in unannounced.

“Mother,” she says meekly, “is Christine going to be okay?”

I smile back at her kindly, “I believe so Meg, I just think her soulmate has had a tough life before her.”

“You do know him don’t you.” She says, staring incredulously at me.

“No, I-“

“I was thinking, well more like remembering, of the time when you spoke of a freak of nature. How you went with the other ballet girls when you were just training to a Gypsy show, and saw a boy with half a face locked in a cage.”

“Meg,”

“I saw Christine’s face, ma, I know you know who he is, why don’t you just tell her.”

“You don’t understand, Meg, you don’t know him.” I paused then gestured to a seat before taking my own. “How would you feel if all your life, you’ve never felt a spark of love, only hatred and pain and more hatred. Christine’s soulmate is 15 years older than her, he doesn’t think he has a soulmate.

“I know they’ll find each other, but they’ll do it when they’re ready. Trust me Meg, they’re closer than you know.”

She nodded at me before getting up and leaving me silently with my thoughts.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have a meddling child, an angry yet unexpressive man baby, and a girl who still believes in angels. Two of them are in love and they don’t know it, and the third it just going to try and push them together.

Maybe my job will be easier than first thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter, I'm sorry. 
> 
> Any spelling grammar or other mistakes, feel free to tell.


	9. Chapter 9

I woke up to an aching pain everywhere on my body. I groaned and opened my eyes to see the celling of the infirmary, then Madame Giry’s face popped into view.  

“Christine, oh thank god you’re finally awake.”

“Madame Giry, what happened?” I rolled through my memories trying to remember why I was here, assuming it had something to do with the fading pain.

“Oh sweet heart, I’m not sure it’s wise to open you up to that right after you awoke.”

“My soulmate.” I said jolting in an upright position, but instantly regretting it has my whole body screamed out in pain. I hissed, laying back down slowly, barley aware of Madame Giry’s hand supporting me on my way down. She handed me a glass of water and a cookie for me to eat. I never complain when I get feed, I practically inhaled that cookie.

“Yes, sweetheart, this is your soulmate, but you really don’t know the half of it.” She said after I had finished the glass of water. As I reached out with the glass in hand, a silent gesture asking for more, I gasped at the sight on the back of my hand.

I pulled it towards me, dropping the empty glass, and looked at the little white lines running across them. I kicked the covers off my body to stare at my legs, more lines covered them, longer lines, and less frequent. I pulled my dress a little higher, noticing how more and more lines seemed to appear. I rested my hand on my thigh and a jolt of pain was sent through me.

I looked up at Madame Giry in complete despair, unsure of what to make of this.

“Christine, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Madame, look at me, I’m covered in lines, marks that he’s suffered.”

“And marks that you have just suffered.”

I paused, thinking what she just said over.

“How long exactly was I asleep?” I asked slowly. She hesitated, letting me know it was for an unsettling amount of time. “Madame Giry what day is it.”

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two days. And I don’t suggest that you go back until the pain is gone, and you find out something to do with-“ She cut off, waving her hand in circles in front of her face.

“What’s wrong with my face?” Slowly she took the mirror out from behind her back, handing it to me backwards. I grabbed the mirror out of her hand, a turned it so I could see my face.

I didn’t notice anything at first, but when I turned into the light, I saw it.

A shadow of a distortion, half my nose was covered, my temple, my cheek, each a different twisted shade. I touched it, but felt no bumps where there look like there was some.

I looked up to Madame Giry, knowing complete horror was painted across my face. I felt like I was going to cry, everything was just being dropped on me all too fast.

I’ve practically missed the show, missing most the rehearsals due to passing out, they’re about to start Hannibal, and I can’t do anything anymore because of the twisted features on my face now. My main goals thrown out the window because my soulmate.

My soulmate.

How did he even get all of these scars? What kind of life do you lead to get this many, I can’t comprehend. Why would he get all these scars, did he think someone – me – on the other end, wasn’t there?

So many thoughts were running through my head.

“Tonight, after everyone is in bed, I’ll take you to your room, then we’ll find something to cover up your scars.”

I looked down at my hands again, feeling the slightly bumpy skin covered in little pain lines.

“Wait, Madame Giry, what about my lessons? I can’t just skip those.”

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got it covered. Rest now, let your body heal from the pain and shock.” I nodded and laid my head down on the single pillow I was given, trying to get comfortable in this brick of a bed.

 ***

After Madame Giry knew everyone was asleep, or in their rooms at the very least, she came to the infirmary to get me. Though we would probably pass nobody and it was quite dark, I had something over top of my head, obscuring view of my face when I looked down.

It was a silent and slightly awkward walk down to my room. I probably won’t be sleeping in the ballet room anymore, because until I get the problem with my face covered, which I’m hoping Madame Giry figured out, I don’t want any one seeing me.

When we made it to my room, I grabbed the door knob and threw the door open, surprised to see that it looked like someone had been in here. I took the cloth from off my head, setting it down on the vanity as I walked by it. My eyes the whole time were focused on the bed. There were crinkles in the sheets, which wouldn’t be weird if it weren’t for the fact that they took the form of a human.

“Christine” Madame Giry said, taking my attention away from the bed. I whipped around to face her, making myself dizzy in the process. I sat down on the bed as she started talking.

“I was thinking that since it’s only on your skin and there barely any bumps, we could just cover it with makeup, and nobody would be none the wiser.” She looked nervous, as if I wouldn’t agree to her plan. However, I nodded in agreement because there were no better options. “Come, there’s plenty of makeup lying around the Opera house for you to steal. I’ve brought some with me that I thought might work on you.”

I sat down in the chair in front of the vanity, Madame Giry’s body blocked my view of the mirror, which I was grateful for. As Madame Giry started coating my face in makeup, I started to think some more.

I would have to get used to this face considering it mirrors that of my soulmates, to a lesser degree. I guess it’s something I can do, at least I won’t be shocked when I first see him, and he’ll be easy to spot in a crowd. Though with this many scars, I can imagine that he comes with a lot of baggage. Doesn’t matter, I do too.

I looked as Madame Giry stepped away from in front of me, and stared in shock as I stared back at myself, face normal. 

* * *

 

It’s been two days and Madame Giry still hasn’t come to me with any details about what’s happening with Christine. I know I was told to sit tight, but I just can’t. Everything these past few days have been so mysterious, too many weird coincidences all happening at the same time. I had writing on my skin when I know I didn’t write anything on me, suggesting that I have a soulmate that just turned eighteen, which could be weird. Christine’s passed out because of her soulmate, who I am still plotting the murder of, despite what Madame Giry said.

However, before I could think any more on the subject, Madame Giry knocked on Christine’s door, the room I’ve been staying in the past two days. I stood up to unlock the door for her, letting her in the room.

“Christine has woken up today.” She said as I shut the door behind her. Finally she was awake and things could go back to the way they were. “She a little shaken up about what has happened, how she’s missed the performances and is behind on Hannibal, about her new soulmate.”

“Will she be able to continue lessons?” I asked, sounding a little too eager then what I’m normally like, but I didn’t mind.

“Not today, but tomorrow, possibly, it all depends on her.”

“Well, as long as she’s safe. Who is this monster anyways who put her in all this mess? I’ll kill him, I could rip him limb from limb.”

“How am I supposed to know, she’s been out for the past two days. She couldn’t have had contact with him except for on her birthday.” Madame Giry explained.

“Right but she passed out before she could get to a pen.” I said while sitting down on the bed.

“Well that’s not quite true, sometimes when the soulmates know each other first, the bond can become strong and you are able to get their messages before they turn eighteen.” She said, getting slower with every word as though she realized something in between. She snapped out of her trance, straightening her back. “Christine will be living here most likely for some time, so I suggest you make yourself scarce.” She said before turning around and clacking out the door in her heals.

I didn’t know that you could have contact with your soulmate before they were eighteen. I thought I read everything, trying to come up with a logical solution as to why I don’t have one.

I rubbed my eyes before standing up and heading to the mirror, mentally preparing myself to make the long trek down.

I’d have to start really pushing Christine to do her best, what with the new managers and all. This could be her chance to finally get La Carlotta away from the spot light. That pig doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near the spot light, she can’t sing any more, way past her glory days. My Christine will never pass her glory days, she was crafted from an Angel.

Her soulmate doesn’t deserve her. How could he with what he just put her through. I would treat her right, but, I know the consequences of being with someone that’s not your soulmate.

My mother and father were under eighteen, both of them, and swore they got it right, it wasn’t until half way through the pregnancy when my father turned eighteen and realized that they weren’t meant for each other.

Instantly he left, went out searching for his perfect woman. My mother went through with the pregnancy thinking ‘what could go wrong’.

Then I was born.

Upon seeing my face, my mother was instantly disgusted. But it wasn’t just the face, apparently I take most of my looks from my father, the only thing resembling her is her eyes. But then I ran away, thinking nothing could be worse than living with that abusive woman I have to call my mother. But I was wrong and am man enough to admit my mistakes, and make a circle all the way back to Paris.

Though, it’s all fate really. If I didn’t run away and learn about music while on the run or locked up in a cage, I wouldn’t have found peace in the opera house. Or I would have and not been able to teach Christine.

Either way, it brought me to Christine, and that is the best thing I’ve gotten out of this life so far, after all the hell I’ve been through, this feels like Heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt really out of character for Erik in this chapter, and due to that his part is a little shorter then usual. However, soon we'll be getting to the juicy part and picking it up where the musical start, and then running right off the tracks again. 
> 
> As always, if there's any mistakes, tell me.


	10. Chapter 10

Two men and Monsieur. Lefevre came pushing through the crowd, disrupting our rehearsal which we have been doing on repeat for what felt like days. It was truly only since yesterday morning with breaks in-between, but I’m tired and annoyed, I’ve just gotten back into the swing of things and now he’s just going to disrupt my pattern by an announcement. I was whispering with Meg before Madame Giry’s cane burst through the chatter.

“May I have your attention please?” He said, standing up on a prop chair. I’m quite surprised it’s holding him.

“Bet you he announces his retirement.” Meg whispers to me.

“I won’t take that bet because I know that’s what he’s going to say.” I whispered back. Madame Giry cleared her throat and gave us a stern look, promptly shutting us up.

We turn our attention back to him as he introduces the two new managers, who go on to flatter La Carlotta causing her to sing.

People cringe away as she destroys the aria, but the new managers seem utterly entranced.

“They must be deaf.” Meg said, I gave a little chuckle, but then stopped when I got the feeling. The feeling I only get when I’m close to my Angel. I look up in the rafters, trying to see if someone is there, but only see a stage hand fixing a weight bag. I focus my attention back on to the shrieking woman prancing around the stage, making a fool of herself.

As La Carlotta approach the middle of the stage, a bag fell down, almost on top of her. More shrieks of horror filled the room as people jumped out of the way and looked to find what happened. I looked back up into the rafter, but the stage hand was gone.

Whispers about the Phantom of the Opera filled my ears as ballet girls started spreading rumors. They rushed to get that bastard Bouquet down, sure that he was responsible, but I don’t know him for doing his job. Usually he’s just prancing around trying to get up girls skirts in the worst way possible.

More gasps and whispers filled the room as Bouquet once again spread rumors that it was the Phantom of the Opera.

“These things do happen.” The entire room got silent with that remark, all stunned that he just said that, and even more stunned as La Carolotta went on to say something we all agree with.

He’s not been there for all that long, and these attacks have been happening to La Carolotta for a while, and while none of the company complains while it happens, it always end in a slew of her screeching. Getting the Diva off the stage seems to be the Phantoms number one goal, though what we’re going to do when she’s gone is a mystery.

I zoned back into what was happening around me as La Carlotta stormed past us.

“I don’t think there’s much more I can do to help you,” said Monsieur Lefevre “If you need me I’ll be in Frankfurt.” He then exited the stage. He probably sold the Opera house because of the Phantom.

“But Mousier” one of the Managers breathed

“La Carlotta will be back.”

“You think so Monsieur?” Said Madame Giry, before she lifted up a letter. “I have a message from the Opera Ghost,”

A look of exasperation passed over both of the new manager’s face as Meg leaned in to whisper to me.

“Where did she get that? Did she always have that? After I turned twelve and realized nothing was real, I thought the Opera ghost was a fib to get us to perform well.” I shrugged my shoulders in agreement with her.

“With the Viscount De Chagny-“ My breath hitched at that name, it sounds familiar, but I can’t remember where I’ve heard it before. I tried to think, I’ve been here for most of my life since my father died, maybe he was a patron before and has renewed status.

“Christine Daee could song it sir.” My head snapped to Meg who is looking over her shoulder, a proud grin on her face. I pulled her back by the arm, scolding her for doing that and slapping her inconspicuously. “She’s had a great tutor.”

“From whom?” One of the managers asked. I panicked, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t just tell them it was my Angel of Music, they’ll think I’m insane.

“I don’t know sir.”

“Oh not you as well, full house and we have to can-“

“Daee, that’s a curious name” Said the other, “Any relation to the violinist.”

“My father, sir”

“Let her sing for you mousier, she has been well taught.” Madame Giry said, slightly looking up to the rafters. I smiled at her, a little thankful for stepping in. Though I’m not happy I’m in this position in the first place, this is what my Angel wants, what I want, I can’t just turn that opportunity down.

“From the beginning of the aria then.”

“Good luck,” Meg said as she walked by.

“I can’t believe you did this.” I whisper yelled back at her.

“It’s for your own good,” she said, then the music started playing.

I’ve worked on this song since a little before the incident, which is what it is now being called, but my Angel hasn’t let up on me since. However, as confident as I may be, I’ve never actually sang in front of an audience, so seeing the people stare back at me, seeing all of those empty seats that will be filled in less than twelve hours makes me so nervous, I can’t sing properly. I look down at the disappointed faces of the new managers as I start to turn away from but Madame Giry’s cane hits the ground.

Then I feel it, I can feel my Angel watching, and no longer am I nervous. A wave of confidence hits me as I finish the song in its glory.

The ballet girls screech, the chorus members look jealous, and the managers are happy that tonight’s performance won’t be cancelled and they can get their first pay check.

“Then it’s settled” One of the managers yells from the audience, “You will sing the lead tonight in La Carlotta’s place.” I was ecstatic, and I hope my Angel was proud too. Though, knowing him, he was probably watching me, critiquing my every move, and I did terrible at the beginning.

I was quickly ushered away for the part considering that I’m a twig and La Carlotta is not, it took a while.

 ***

I looked out over the crowd as they slowly rose out of their seats for a standing ovation. This felt right, I felt like I’m where I’m supposed to be, center stage, being pelted with roses, a large smile painted on my face.

One rose in particular caught my attention. A single rose with a black ribbon tied on it. I leaned over to pick it up and held it in my hand. I don’t know who it came from, but it stuck out in the crowd.

I turned and walked off the stage to my room. The other ballet girls gathered around me, all talking about how amazing I did. I felt a little overwhelmed, I just needed to get away from eyes always on me. Luckily Madame Giry came and rescued me from the squealing girls surrounding me.

Only Meg was left, and I felt like I could finally relax. I looked down at my hand, noticing a slice with dried blood on it on my palm probably from the rose. I took off the big bulky skirt that only insane women or theatre women would wear. Meg knows about the scars, but I haven’t yet showed them to her, however, my legs are still covered in stockings and you can’t really see them through that.

“That was incredible, Christine, I knew you could sing, but I didn’t know you could _sing_.” She said, throwing me my cover up. “Who taught you that?”

“My Angel of Music.” I said putting the sweater on over top of my clothes. “I felt him there watching me as I perform. He puts me at ease, since he is the only person I’ve ever really sang in front of.”

“Christine, are you okay? You look a bit frightened. And look on the bright side, maybe-“

“Meg, aren’t you a dancer,” Megs head whipped around at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Go practice.” Meg scurried out of the room, an expression of sympathy etched on her face as Madame Giry didn’t follow her.

“You did very well, my dear” the older woman started before she pulled out a letter. Where does she get all these from?

I opened it as she left the room, and read the hasty written writing.

_A red scarf, the attic, little lotte._

It took a little deciphering, the cursive really clumped like they had written it on something soft. It was also very feminine writing which was weird because I didn’t know many women that aren’t from the opera house.

I looked up as a soft knock rapt at my door. I unlocked the door for a tall young man with blond hair and blue eyes. He looked quite familiar.

“Christine Daee, where is your red scarf.” _Red scarf? Is this man mad?_ “You can’t have lost it after all the trouble I took, I was soaked to the skin.” _Raoul. That’s how I know the name._

“Oh Raoul, so it is you.”

“Oh how you’ve grown, I remember when we were little and your father would play the violin up in the attic as we would play.”

“And you, you’ve change from a striking youth to a handsome young man.”

“Where have you been all this time, and where did you learn how to sing like that.”

“I’ve been here ever since, my father died. He told me when he passed, he would send me the Angel of Music, which he did.” I explained.

“You were absolutely stunning, and I think it’s time we catch up. Over dinner. Get ready I’ll be back in five minutes.” He said, taking his leave.

“No, Raoul, you don’t understand. The Angel of Music is very strict.” I said the last part to the door, staring at his dust.

* * *

The new managers were exactly the blabbering idiots I expected them to be.  They’re going to send this Opera House into ruin if I don’t watch them closely, I can just feel it. I followed them down the hallway as Monsieur Lefevre showed them how everything works and where it all is.

They were also quite stingy, I could tell that by the looks on their faces when they realized they would have to provide food for the workers.

Knowing that Lefevre would be gone, I turned away from them and headed to his office. I opened the door I have hidden into his wall and settled into his, very comfortable might I add, chair.

_Dear new managers,_

_I hope you will understand where your place remains in the Opera House. This is not the kind of place that can be run by fools, so I hope that the two of you are able to put your heads together and form the semblance of a full brain. I would like to inform you that box five be left empty, and that my salary be paid. Monsieur Lefevre paid me a heavy amount, and I will lighten that load, only while you get the hang of things of course._

_If you step out of line, just know that am not known for my mercy._

_O.G._

After it finished drying, I folded it up and slid it into a signed envelope, sealing it, and putting it into my breast pocket for Madame Giry. I went back into the passage way and made my way to the stage area.

I can hear the managers flattering La Carlotta. I still haven’t figured out what people see in her. She out of her prime, she only knows how to squeal like a pig, she should just quit while she ahead.

From the shadows, I coughed, catching Madme Giry’s attention to hand her the letter. She’s always very discrete about everything she down, and I guess if she wasn’t, then I would have been found a while ago.

She snatched the letter out of my hand, and I climbed up the ladder to the rafters, coming up with a plan. The new managers will know their place.

I took out my knife that I always keep stacked away in my boot, and started sawing at a weight bag. As it started to give, only one string holding it in place, I ran back into the shadows, as to not get caught when everyone looks to where it came from.

I heard the old cow screech as the bag hit the ground. Though I’m sad I couldn’t witness it, it was nice to hear the sounds. Sometimes, that’s even better than seeing.

I started to make my way back to my layer when La Carlotta came huffing down the hallway, two people following closely suit, trying to calm her. She was mumbling something about what they’re going to do without her. Finally I had done it, I pushed her to her limit and now my ears won’t bleed every time I come out to watch Christine perform.

I turn around and head back, but this time to box five. People of the Opera house are afraid of that dark box since they believe I linger in it, which I do. Though, I keep it clean, so there’s no use for the cleaning ladies to be in there.

Hidden in the shadows of my box, I watched as Christine sang Think of Me perfectly. Absolutely nothing wrong other than her obvious nervousness which came less and less as she progressed through the song.

Ever since her birthday, she been a little closed off. She’s also been sleeping in her room wearing more makeup. I wonder if he said something to her, if she has met him, I know nothing about him. She’s always been so open to me about everything, but she hasn’t mentioned anything about soulmates at all.

Also since her birthday, I haven’t written on my skin, I’m trying to see if it really was my writing, or if it was someone else’s. So far, nothing has shown up, and I’m not sure when to go back to my normal ways. I’ve lost so many compositions due to it, and I’m still convinced I was just insane and I did write it.

I was stunned into silence as she hit that last note with pure perfection, proud that I’ve taught her that.

***

After bandaging up my hand from where I cut it slicing the rope, I put on my best suit, even though no one will see me, and headed to box five.

However, it seems Madame Giry didn’t give them the note because the two Managers and a young man were sitting in the box. The one time I actually get to see my Christine in the spot light, they decide to take refuge in my box. I don’t let it get the best of me. I here to watch Christine’s debut and I won’t let them destroy it.

I watched as she sang through the song with more confidence then this morning, and no nervousness visible to the common eye. However, I’m her teacher and I know how to read her body language like a book, so I noticed her tell-tale signs of nervousness, which was to be expected.

As she sang that final note once more, I looked around to see all the astonished faces of the people around me, taking extra special note of the young man sitting in my box. He seemed absolutely entranced, and if these managers are anything like I think they are, they’re not going to stop him from seeing Christine after the performance, and they’ll never stop him when he tries to buy his way into her heart.

But I know Christine, she wanted to be with her Soulmate ever since she was little, and I hope that any amount of money won’t change that, I don’t want to her end up with a child like me.

I threw the red rose with the black ribbon on to the stage. It caught Christine’s eyes and she leaned over and picked it up. She held it close to her in her hand and walked off stage, a Cheshire smile reaching from ear to ear.

I quick ran through the tunnels in the wall to make it to her room. When I arrived, both Christine and the Giry girl were there.  

“My Angel of Music. I felt him there watching me as I perform. He puts me at ease, since he is the only person I’ve ever really sang in front of.” She said, and it was the most reassuring thing I think I’ve ever heard in my life. To know that I she can feel my presence the way I get that feeling when I’m around her and it puts her at ease.  

Most people would run away at the sight of my face, and though she hasn’t seen it yet, it’s nice to think of her thinking of me like that.

Madame Giry made her daughter scurry away and handed Christine a note. From where I could see, it looked like a folded up piece of the playbill with hasty writing on it, but then came a knock at the door. Christine got up to answer it and in the door way was a lanky blond hair, blue eyed, perfect kind of man. The kind of man that sat in my box.

He stood with his charming smile, making a fool out of himself with a big act of their history together. So this was the boy that Christine used to play with when she was younger. She used to speak of a boy in the higher class. A sob story, they were innocent kids who wanted to play together but his parents wouldn’t let him because god forbid their son is seen with someone of the lower class. This is why I hate people in the upper class, and to think that’s where I came from. Though to be fair, I hate most people, hence why I hate this man.

“You were absolutely stunning, and I think it’s time we catch up. Over dinner. Get ready I’ll be back in five minutes.” This man doesn’t know anything about women, that’s quite obvious. No woman can get ready in five minutes, especially after performing on stage with extra makeup on to make your features stand out more for those in the back.  She would have to take all that off, put new makeup on, change her dress and corset, I mean, I know all of this and I lived my entire life alone.

“No, Raoul, you don’t understand. The Angel of Music is very strict.” She said, But he was already out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long for me to upload, last week was tech week for my high school play, and in knowing that I was going to be there every night till twelve at night, I decided it wasn't worth it to put myself through any more stress. But it's up now, and I'm finally at the beginning of the play, and I'm trying not too completely copy it, to which I failed.  
> Also, when I wrote this on Microsoft word, it was nine pages long, so i'm sorry if it is extremely long, it said it was only like three thousand words so that's pretty average.  
> As always, if there's any mistakes, please tell me.


	11. Chapter 11

“Ignorant Boy, only concerned with the latest fashion, and the most beautiful things around him. He only wants to take my triumph and your glory away from us.” My voice boomed through the glass of the mirror, clearly showing my anger.

“Angel, I hear you, but he doesn’t want my glory, he wants to be my soulmate, always has.” She replied, looking frantic. Her worry was justified because I was about ready to jump through this glass and choke that boy.

“What a fool, he isn’t your soulmate.” I was guessing, hoping, and praying that I was right.

“No, but he never knew that, he doesn’t know that I’ve always had my soul markings. Please, help me point him in the right direction, I can’t stand to break his heart.” I was grateful I was right, but I didn’t know she’s had them for that long.

“Dearest child, if you trust me, I will show you something you are to never speak about again.” What am I doing? I’m acting out of jealous rage, I’m about to show her who I really am.

“I’ll always trust you angel.” She replied back innocently, poor girl won’t know what hit her.

She stepped back in shock as the mirror started opening towards her. The look on her face when she saw me, a man, standing before her was one that I’ve never seen. Usually when people see me for the first time, there is shock and disgust written on their face. I was expecting just that, a man teaching a young girl how to sing from behind a mirror, that is very perverted, but yet she’s facing me like the strong woman she is.

However, I most likely had the same look of shock written on my face because nothing was as beautiful as her standing in a close proximity. I’ve seen her from afar and through a foggy mirror, but this is something else.

I gathered my bearings and stuck my hand out to her in a mysterious way. Slowly she grabbed it, and I could feel the warmth of her hand radiating through my glove.

She grabbed the hem of her dress as she stepped up to the same level as me, not breaking eye contact the entire way. As the mirror started to shut, she pulled herself into me due to the thin hallway and just kept staring. It made me think if I’d forgotten to put my mask on, or maybe she’s just piecing it all together in her head. I felt like she could see into the deepest parts of my soul, see all of the wrongs I’ve committed. Any second now, she would run away screaming, crying for Madame Giry to call the police, and my life will be spent in jail before they have me hanged.

But she didn’t, and as the mirror started closing, even the call of Monsieur Perfect could break us from this trance. 

* * *

 

I didn’t know what to expect, but the mirror opening was not it. It was farfetched to actually believe that an angel would teach me how to sing, but he was not what I expected.

The man standing before me was really attractive, which feels weird thinking that, not only because it is immodest, but also because I’ve known this man my entire life, but I can’t help it. He has a perfect jaw line, perfect cheek bone structure, I’m sure he has abs. The one flaw about him is the mask hiding the other half of his face.

I grabbed his hand as he reached out to me, feeling the coldness even through the leather, but not letting my eyes waver. Everything about this man standing before me was a paradox. He was muscular, yet skinny, cold yet warm, and an Angel yet a Phantom.

I stepped up, into the passage way, squeezing my way in so that we were parallel to each other, and to the walls. It was a tight squeeze, my back was touching the wall, all the while my front was touching him. I could feel his every movement, the silent breaths, the slight shaking, yet nothing took my attention away from his eyes.

They were the most mesmerizing thing I’ve ever seen, and they held so much emotion in them. It was like he was a totally different person then I’ve known my entire life. His voice held only the emotion he wanted it to hold, yet his eyes told a story.

I didn’t let go of his hand or eye contact as the mirror started to shut, and I was barely aware of the banging on the door and the calling of my name.

He turned suddenly and started leading me deeper into the tunnels. He started to let his hand go limp in mine, but I held on tight, liking the feeling of it, wishing, somewhere in the back of my mind, that he hadn’t worn his gloves. I looked at the twists and turns, where halls lead off to different paths. I tried to figure out where they lead to in the Opera House, but we were gone too fast for me to get any real sense of what they looked like.

“Be careful, not all of my trap doors are as protected as yours, the further we go down, the more traps will be set.” He stopped and turned to me, not paying attention, I almost ran into his chest. “And I don’t think you want me cutting you down while you’re hanging by your foot.”

I gulped, and tried to pay more attention where I was walking. I couldn’t see much, his body almost blocked all of the light from the oil lamp, but if I looked over his shoulder, I could see traps set along the floors. Ropes painted gray to blend in with the floor, tiles in the ground were different colours than the rest of the floor. I also noticed how my Angel stepped around them with ease, obviously having these paths memorized.

The most intriguing part about my angel, though, is the mask. The mask resides on the same side of his face where my new scars are. A wave of excitement mixed with curiosity hit me. I just found out that my angel is a man and has been lying to me since I was little, and yet instead of angry, I’m intrigued.

This angel- no- this man, who has woken me out nightmare and dreams with his music, spoken to me through his music, was never the man I thought he was. I had always thought my angel was there, watching me as I performed on stage, even as a ballerina, but now I find it was because he was the phantom. I know only rumors about the phantom, never having seen them myself. He’s evil, a murder, wears a mask, which turns to be true, and he hate Carlotta, which who doesn’t.

Though, I did see him, I saw him right before the bag fell to the stage, yet I feel no fear in front of him like I should. My Angel has used the Phantom to clear a way for me to perform, even just for one night.

I was cut out of my trance by the sound of trickling water along with the air around us starting to get damper. The last corner we turned lead us to a lake. I gasped in shock when I saw it over his shoulder. This was the last thing I was expecting down here, it seemed totally out of place. Who knew that there would be a lake under the Opera House?

“Rumor has it that the Opera House was built over catacombs.” He said, noticing my shock.

“That doesn’t explain the lake, where did this water even come from?”

“To keep people out, and keep what resides on the other side there.” He explained, climbing into the boat. Once he was settled, he held out a hand for me to hold on to while I got in the boat. I sat down on the one higher plank of wood there was, covered by red felt.

“You reside on the other side, yet you can cross over.”

“Well, Christine, you’ll learn that some monsters are smarter than others.” There was no trance of emotion in his voice nor on his face when I turned around to look at him.

“Don’t say that, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

“That makes one person.” I barely heard it, but I ignored it like I didn’t. The lake was glassy, yet I couldn’t see the bottom. I reached over the side of the boat, putting my hand in the ice cold water.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, you never know what lies beneath the surface.” I stared back at him in shock, not sure if he was telling the truth or not. I pulled my hand out of the water though, just to be safe.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before I saw a light reflecting off the walls, showing me we were almost at our destination. I felt the boat jolt forward a little before a constant loud noise cut through the air.

As we creeped around the corner, I noticed that the noise was a portcullis lifting, and that jolt must have been my Angel hitting the switch.

The boat scrapped against the shoreline as we neared it. I stood up, ready to get out, but I noticed it didn’t quite reach. My Angel jumped out and stood in the water before grabbing me bridal style and putting me down on the dry land. I blushed as he tied up the boat, I’ve never willingly been that close to a man.

Even through my shock of it, I saw something under that mask. That mask that people fear, they run from, yet I wanted to see under it. It was cruel of me to want that, see if his matches mine, but I felt no shame.

I should, which it what worries me that I’m not. I cannot possibly change in the time period of coming down to these catacombs, there’s no possible way that he has taken the shame out of me for we have barely had a conversation.

I turned to face what I believe to be his house in awe. I didn’t notice, but you could see it through the bars separating the house from the lake, but still giving it a view. 

From where I was standing, I could see, what I assume to be the living room and dining room combined with a little room off of it that I had to assume was a kitchen. Opposite the kitchen was a stairway, and as I walked more into the room, I saw it lead to three doorways, all covered with cloth for doors. Next to the stairway was another doorway covered with cloth.

All of it seemed very mysterious to me, the décor in the house was all fancy, fluffy carpets covering cold rock. Beautiful metal poles that lined the stairway and blocking the lake, yet there was thick cloth covering the doorways.

It matched him, he was so mysterious, and I didn’t realize how much I don’t know about him. I used to think he was an Angel of music, his only purpose in life was to teach and create music, but this is a new opening. I can’t imagine that he had somebody come down here and do this all for him meaning that this man had many different talents that I’ve yet to discover.

Everything just screamed him, it looked like it shouldn’t have matched, but yet it fit perfectly in their own little niche. He had bookshelves filled to the brim of both books and music. Everything had a red or black tint to it, and it seemed to suck the light out of the room.

“Sing for me.” He commanded, and under a spell, I obeyed. It was an odd duet, he was following my lead because he could go off of me coming up with it on the spot. If the sound still carries over the lake like it used to, people would hear, and yet I didn’t care. As if remembering himself after I stopped singing, his eyes blinked with a different emotion.

“I’m a fool, you sang all day and must be tired, follow me.” He said standing up. He turned and made his way to the steps, also covered in the red plush carpet, and made a majestic ascent. Who knew walking up the stairs could be made so, well, him. As I grabbed on to the railing, I noticed how each line was carved with intricacy.

I followed him to the third doorway where he pulled aside a light green cloth. It didn’t match the rest of his house, but it did match this room.

It was bright, light colours filled it and I could instantly tell it was made for me. I walked over to the bed, sat down, and gasped at how it formed to my body shape.

“This is unlike any bed I’ve ever slept in.” I said, completely in awe with the room.

“Well, I do have extravagant tastes.” He said back.

“That’s for sure.” I breathed as I saw the perfumes and soaps that sat on the vanity.

“I’ll leave you to it, please get me if you need anything. I’ll most likely be in the music room, the dark purple cloth, not to be mixed with the black one.” Then he turned and left, closing the cloth behind him.

I went over to the chest at the end of my bed, hoping that there was a night gown of some kind in there, not to fond of having to sleep in this corset of a costume. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I opened the lid to find silky nightgowns and other dresses in the box.  I picked the top dress up, laying it on my bed while I took off my corset, then slipped it on.

I debated whether or not I should take off my makeup, but I was afraid that he would walk in in the middle of the night and see. I decided that I would take off the acting makeup because it made me look like a fool with my exaggerated features, and though I had already rubbed some of it off, I just look like a smudged clown.

After applying a normal amount of makeup, I slipped into a slumber accompanied by a gentle tune filling the air and my body being absorbed in this gigantic and soft bed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is out a little later because I originally written something that you will see later, but then decided it didn't fit here and rewrote half the chapter. But it's out so that's fun.  
> As always, mistakes of any kind please tell.


	12. Chapter 12

I woke up to silence, which was my first sign that something was amiss, people are always bustling around the opera house, no matter the time of day. I opened my eyes to see a light green cloth as a roof on my bed. I know I don’t have one of those, then it started to come back to me.

The opera, my magnificent performance, Raoul, My Angel is a real man. It was all too good to be true, I thought it was a dream. Yet, here I am, in the phantoms layer, sleeping, letting all my cares be free. Madame Giry would flip when she found out, and she probably will.

I swung my feet over my bed, digging them deep in the fluffy carpet. As I looked around the room, I noticed that even though it is probably morning time, it still looked like it was twelve at night. I walked over to the vanity and noticed that the mirror was covered, and also this house has a lot of cloth decorating it. It was a black one this time, but I could see through it enough to notice that the mirror was cracked, but not shattered.

I still tried to use it, to see how bad my makeup was disturbed in the middle of the night. The answer was pretty bad, and I spent the next ten minutes to get it off my face and back on in a natural manner.

When I decided that I’ve put enough on, I pulled aside the green cloth and looked over the railing to try and find my angel, however I couldn’t find him.

_He’s probably in the music room, that’s where he said right? Was it the dark purple or black cloth?_

The black cloth was first so I figured I’d try that one. I instantly noticed my choice was wrong because he said music room, and that room was not filled with any musical instruments, but instead a coffin. I tore the curtain back into its place, hoping that he wouldn’t know I was in there. From the light that streamed in, I could barely make out the coffin, but I know what they look like, and I’m not going to investigate what was inside of it if he didn’t even want me in the room.

I quickly hopped away to where the dark purple curtain was, now knowing it was the right choice because it was already pulled aside showing a small room filled to the brim with music. It was probably a naturally decent sized room, but due to the bookshelves lining the wall, the grand piano in the middle, and every instrument in between neatly perched in their cases in a semblance of an order, it seemed small.

However, what caught my attention the most was my angel. He was passed out, sitting on the piano bench, leaned on both the keys and the music. His jacket was on a spare chair, hidden in the corner right next to the entrance, and through the tight shirt, I could see the muscles in his back. It was weird to see him in white, you could always see the white shirt peeking through, but it was covered by his black jacket and dark purple cravat.

This was a whole different side of him, he was calm peaceful, and looks perfectly in his element surrounded by music. I felt weird, just staring at him like this, it wasn’t right, wasn’t proper, so I looked away, then something caught my eye.

On the floor was his mask. I could tell he hadn’t taken it off because everything else in this room had order and a pattern, but this was upside down on the floor like it had fallen off his face.

My curiosity got the best of me and so I looked. I probably should have given up when I realized the side of his face that had the mask was on the piano, explaining why it fell off, but I didn’t, I decided to move his head, turn it, because that _wouldn’t_ wake him up.

And so, with all logic thrown out the window, I ended up paying for my actions immediately, starting from when his eye snapped open.

It was like he instantly knew what I was doing because there was but one emotion showing in his eyes, meaning there was no other emotion he was feeling other than pure anger.

He slowly rose and I slowly backed up, but we never broke eye contact, then he turned to me fully showing his face.

I truly think it was the gasp that set him off because that’s when he pounced. He ripped the mask from my hand, which I didn’t even know I had, and threw across the room.

“Damn you, you prying little demon, is this what you wanted to see?” He screamed at me, dragging me by the wrist, to the main room. At least he was thinking about the musical instruments because by the way he was holding on to my wrist, I don’t think he’s a gentle mad.

“Curse you, you don’t know what you’ve done, you don’t know what this face will do to you, you’ll never be free from it,” he said, finally letting go of my hand and we both collapsed to the ground.

“It is stranger then you thought, isn’t it? You thought you’d come down here and get a glimpse at what the phantom hides, but would never think that you wouldn’t be able to look at this repulsive face.” He chuckled dryly, the distorted part of his face was pulled with it.

Honestly, it was as repulsive and terrifying as he said it was, but I’ve seen it before, and if he had stopped to listen before freaking out, he would have known that that gasp was because he’s my soulmate and not because it’s horrifying.

“What is your name?” I asked quietly, shocking him out of anger trance.

“Is the face not enough of a secret, must you know my name too?” he whispered back, defeated.

“When I was just three, two marks showed upon my skin. One on my right forearm, and one on my diaphragm. I didn’t think anything of them, mainly because I was three, didn’t read, let alone read French, and really didn’t care, but my father was worried. Then, one summer, a rich family came to live next store, I was young, the boy was my age, we instantly hit it off. I usually wore only long sleeves and dressed to hide the marks.

“My last summer there, I was five, six, maybe, and he drew a heart on his wrist, and a matching one on my wrist and told me we were soulmates. The second I got home, I asked my father what that meant, and so he explained it to me and why I had to hide it. It would have been weird if people found out I had a soulmate, most get them around fifteen to eighteen; not when they’re three. Then my father got offered a job, and like six months later he died. An Angel came to me, offering me comfort, and since then, I have been getting more and more writing on my body. Music notes, notes to self, simple little things, but I memorized everyone before they disappeared trying to understand this man who was meant for me was.”

“Why are you telling me this?”  

“I’m telling you this because a couple days ago, I turned eighteen, and all of my soulmates scars showed up on my face, and my arms, and my legs. I was out for two days. Then when I finally came back, I saw my face.” I used my dress to try and rub some of the makeup off my face so he could see what I was on about.  “Angel look.”

And so he did. I’m not sure he saw it first, but when I turned to the light, his face changed; horror and disappointment flashed through his eyes.

“You’re lying, I don’t have a soulmate.”

“I’m not lying. I’ve always wanted a soulmate, why would I lie now?”

“Because I don’t have a soulmate Christine.”

“You do now, you always did.” He stood up and started pacing, clearly distressed with what is happening.

“Come, we must take you back,” He said after a little time and coming to a stop.

“No,” I protested.

“Christine, let’s go,” He insisted sternly.

“The numbers across your diaphragm read 732917, how would I know that if they weren’t written across my diaphragm too?” I tried to convince him to let me stay.

This is not at all what I was expecting to happen when I met my soulmate. I always had dreams when I was little that he would write a time, date, and address on my arm, and we would meet up there. Maybe even run to each other as the sun sets in the background. I never expected him standing before me, protesting what’s clearly in front of him because all he’s known in life is hurt.

I watched as he collapsed in front of me, his body shaking, but no noise came out. I crawled over to him and hugged him close, whispering little nothings to try and make him feel better.

“Erik,” he whispered, “My name is Erik.”

“Erik,” I smiled.

* * *

 

There were fingers lightly touching my face and a pain in my back. Safe to say I was not in a good mood. Then I realized what those fingers were trying to do. It’s not the first time I’ve fallen asleep at the piano, I probably sleep more here than my own bed, and my mask usually falls off because I’ve come so accustomed to sleeping with that side of my face down. However, I was not happy with what Christine was doing.

The second my eyes snapped open, I knew she knew she was in trouble. I slowly rose from my seat, never breaking eye contact with her, then I turned my head.

It’s what she was trying to get a glimpse at, so why not show her. Yet, when that gasp filled my ears, all I could hear were the insults that were bound to come from her. I couldn’t bare it, I didn’t want to lose her too.

Red surrounded my vision as I grabbed her, throwing the mask and dragging her out of that room. I don’t want to hurt her so the chances are I calm down or I start breaking things, and I like my instruments.

However, I was hurting her, I could see it in her eyes. I don’t know if it was because of the hold I had on her wrist or the insults I was throwing at her. I couldn’t even hear what I was saying, I practically blacked out.

I threw her to the floor, collapsing along with her, heartbroken at what I just did. Now I’m bound to lose her to that idiot Raoul. She’ll be afraid of me and my world will be over because I lashed out on her.

“What is your name?” She asked. That was the last thing I was expecting to come out of her mouth at this moment. My name. That has a complicated answer to it. There’s the name that my mother called me; Bastard. Then there’s the name I was given by the gypsies; The Living Dead. Finally the numbers written across my diaphragm from my time in Mazandaran; 732917. I guess I could give her my true name, but why should she want it.

“Is the face not enough of a secret, must you know my name too?” I whispered, defeated by my voice cracking.

She jumped into a story of before I knew her. I didn’t really delve into her life from before she came here. I sometimes forget she had a life before I started teaching her, I sometimes forget I had a life before I started teaching her, its all just nightmares now.

It angers me to know that that boy has always wanted to be her soulmate. I guess it makes sense to a younger version of him, prettiest girl you’ve seen, that’s who he was being trained to marry, except his parents probably weren’t happy when they found this out he was playing with a poor girl. But at his age, even for an upper class child, you shouldn’t be thinking about who you’re going to be with in the future. This is why I hate rich people, however, they do give me my money, and how else would the Opera Populaire keep producing great shows with terrible singers without them. Carlotta, obviously being the poor singer.

However, knowing that Christine had a soulmate when she was three, that makes her soulmate significantly older than her, like as old as me. And he’s a musician, which makes this all the more painful. She doesn’t know what she does to me, how she makes me feel, no nightmares, no pain, only happiness. Knowing that she going to be with a handsomer version of me; same age and same profession, it will kill me.

“Why are you telling me this?” I yelled, trying to get her to stop, but she didn’t. She kept speaking about what happened to her. I knew she passed out, but scars? Who has that many scars that the pain is that significant to make a girl pass out?

“Angel look,” she demanded, and so I did.

At first I saw nothing, it was her face, I was unsure of where I was supposed to be looking, was she holding something, there was nothing in her hands. But then she turned to the light, and it all became clear. On the side of her face, the same side as my warped figure, was a distortion only like one other, mine.

“You’re lying, I don’t have a soulmate.” I said, trying to deny what was right in front of me, trying to save her from my horror of a life.

“I’m not lying. I’ve always wanted a soulmate, why would I lie now?”

“Because I don’t have a soulmate Christine.”

“You do now, you always did.” I stood up to start pacing, thinking everything that’s happening through. There’s no way that whoever or whatever is above has cursed me my entire life, then sent me an angel. Being with her would only make things worse. I wouldn’t be able to keep her here, locked in the shadows, she deserves to be on the stage, in the bright spotlight.

“Come, we must take you back,” I said, trying to save her from this life.  

“No,” she protested.

“Christine, let’s go,” I won’t let her throw her life away for me.

“The numbers across your diaphragm read 732917, how would I know that if they weren’t written across my diaphragm too?” She tried to convince me that what she was telling me was true, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that I can’t keep her cooped down here, never to see the light of day again.  

I couldn’t take it anymore, it was all too much to take in, and through this entire conversation I hadn’t had my mask on. How can she bare to stare at this face and tell it she’s its soulmate? She’s braver than I.  

I collapsed, and to my shame, I cried. I felt Christine’s arms wrapped around me and she whispered little things to me, but I was completely in my own zone. So many things were rolling through my head. For starters, I’ve lived my entire life thinking that I was going to spend my life alone. Who would want to be with this horror? It’s not even my face, it’s my arms, legs, chest, back, and everything inside. All the repressed memories, all the nightmares, the scars, the pain, the everything. How could anyone be with me, what did she do wrong in life to be cursed with me?

“Erik, my name is Erik.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Grammar mistakes or spelling mistakes or any other mistakes, tell me.


	13. Chapter 13

I awkwardly sat down on the couch not knowing what to do with myself. I just watched as he hurried around the room, subtly tidying things up.

He seemed to remember I was sitting there doing nothing as he asked if I wanted tea. I quietly nodded my head and watched some more as he walked into the kitchen. From the couch I could still see what he was doing, but I decided to look around.

He returned with two cups of tea, a glass with sugar, and some honey. He set them all down on the table towards me.

“I wasn’t sure what you like in your tea so I brought it all. I have some milk if you’d like that too, just not enough hands, but I don’t have lemons.” He started making his way into the kitchen and was back before I could protest. I smiled at him in thank you before reaching for the honey spoon.

I watched it as it sluggishly fell into my cup before I put the spoon back. I then reached for the sugar spoon, not sure of how he would feel with what I was going to do next.

I got about two spoonful’s of sugar before he grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

“I think you’ve had enough.” He said.

“Okay fine, I’ll just drink my bitter tea then.” I replied back jokingly, taking a sip. It tasted surprisingly fine, but I wasn’t going to let him win.

“I can’t sit back and watched as you drink pure sugar. It’s bad for your voice you know.” He said, moving the glass of sugar before sitting back down.

“Bad for the voice, but so good for the taste buds.”  I said in a wise voice. He chuckled dryly shaking his head.

“You are something else, dear Christine.”

“Thank you?”

We settled into a comfortable silence, only the cracking of the wood filling it. I tried to not be obvious as I looked at his mask out of the corner of my eye, but he notices everything.

“You’ve finished your tea?"

“Why do insist on wearing the mask? I know what your face looks like.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier to look at it.”

“I’ve stared at the face time and time again in that mirror-“

“Yes, but mine is much worse than what is on your face.”

“Yes, but I don’t care what you look like, I want to see my soulmates face.” I shocked him into a silence before he repeated himself.

“You are something else, dear Christine.” He repeated.

He stood up and grabbed my cup from the table, silently taking it back into the kitchen and washing it before returning.

“Come, it’s time to go back.”

“But-“

“Because it’s getting late into the day. They’re going to wonder where you are, and it’s a long trip so we best get a head start.” I sighed and stood up. I still have the journey back to learn something more about him. From the moment he realized it was true, he’s been practically silent. I can’t say much better for myself, but he actually knows things about me. I always spoke, even just a little, about my day after our lessons were over, and I figure he’s watched over me, but I never asked him about his life.

I guess he’s still processing what’s happened. It’s not every day that you find your soulmate after fifteen years. Wait.

“You’re fifteen years older than me?” I asked as he started untying the rope holding the boat in place.

“Yes.” He grunted out.

“Do you need help with that? Don’t want an old man breaking his back before he’s even married me.” I regretted my words instantly because he froze and slowly stood up. I was already treading on thin ice, this just broke it. However, when he turned around, I could see that he was fighting a smile.

“I’m thirty-three, not sixty, I’m perfectly capable of untying a rope. I’m probably in better shape than you.”

“Yeah right. Ballerina.” I said, gesturing my hand down my body.

“Get in the boat.” He said, holding his hand out to me. I stepped in cautiously, still not sure in my footing.

There was only small talk filling the air between us. We seemed to work perfectly for each other, able to joke around and be carefree, but I know that this is just us getting used to the relationship. It happens to everyone. You’re still being polite and making sure everything you do is okay with them. I have a feeling that it’s going to be hard for both of us, especially him, to get used to fleeting touches and light complements.

All attempts to get any sort of clue about his life were failed, but he’s going to have to tell me eventually. I just want to know small things right now, like when he really started getting into music, but he just replied “That comes with a terrible tale.” And left it be. He couldn’t just say, ‘oh you know like ten years ago,’ he has to be all mysterious about it.  

“How come you stopped writing after my eighteenth birthday?” I asked as we started getting closer to my room.

“Testing a theory.” Erik replied.

“What theory, did it work?” I asked, trying to get just something out of this quiet man.

“No,” he replied shortly.

“Oh, what was your theory?”

He stopped and turned around, looking at me dead in the eye: “To prove to myself I was going insane and didn’t have a soulmate.” Then he turned around and kept walking.

I didn’t speak for the rest of the walk, which was admittedly short. The only sound filling the air was our footfalls on the stone and the ever so quiet dripping of water. We made one last final turn before I recognized where we were. I quickly made a decision, knowing that I’m walking on a tightrope already it was risky, but I’m going to do it.

He push a button or pulled a lever to open the mirror, stepping aside to let me through.

“Until next time, Christine.” He replied, not making eye contact, but looking at my room.

“Are we still going to have lessons tonight, I would assume so,” I tried to get him to look at me, but he wouldn’t.

“You have a performance tonight.” Oh, yeah, I’m still the lead.

“This afternoon, then.”

“Rehearsals.”

“Well, I need to practice at some point. I’ll never get that aria down perfect if I don’t have my teacher telling me what to fix.” He finally looked at me as I raised my voice for my outburst. I was a little embarrassed, shifting awkwardly under his gaze. He reached his hand out and tilted my head up. My breath caught in my throat as he leaned down closer. I truly thought he was going to kiss me.

“There was not a mistake in that aria last night, you were utterly entrancing.” He whispered, “Now I suggest you go back and take your rightfully deserved spot on that stage before La Carlotta returns.” He dropped his hand and didn’t kiss me, so I set my plan into action.

“I’ll meet you here when I’m done.” I said before reaching up on my tippy toes and kissing him on the cheek. I quickly turned, barely catching a glimpse of a blush on his exposed cheek. I hurried out of the room, only pausing for a second to realize that the door had only just begun to close.

I smiled smugly to myself before running down the hallway to find Meg.

* * *

She kissed me, she actually kissed me, albeit on the cheek, but it was still a kiss. I can’t believe it, who would want to kiss me, who would want to be near me in general. I’ve spent my whole life scaring people off and she wants to stay. This angel who deserves more beauty than I could ever give her wants to stay? I must be dreaming.

I watched in stunned silence as she ran out the room, closing the mirror as she closed the door. I walked in a trance to the manager’s office, ready to spy on them should they try any funny business against Christine.

“Where is she,” I heard as I approached the room. The boy is obviously distraught that his little lottee, I think he called her, is missing. I hope he got my note.

“You mean Carlotta” One of the managers asked, I still haven’t learned which name goes to who, haven’t cared.

“I mean Chr- Miss Daee, where is she?” He replied back.  

“How should we know,” You’re the managers, you should know where you Prima Dona is.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping track of your star?” At least he’s got a little common sense. “I believe you sent me this note.”

“Note? Of course not.”

“You didn’t send it?”

“No, why would we do that?”

“You’re telling me this isn’t the letter you wrote.”

“What is it that you’re accusing me of writing?”

_Do not fear for Miss Daee, the angel of music has her under his wing. Make no attempts to see her again._

I really wish I knew Christine was my soulmate before I sent these letters out so I could have rubbed it in. I still don’t believe it, but at least I could have gotten him off of my tail.

There was a silence only filled by heal clacking outside the door before Carlotta burst in the room screeching.

“What is it now” I’m surprised he actually understood the cow.

“I have your letter,” she said, pointing to the viscount “A letter that I rather resent.”

“Did you said it,” said the longer faced manager.

“Of course not” he said, looking utterly perturbed that he was accused.

“You dare tell me that you didn’t send this letter? Well then who do you think did?

“Let me see that” Said Raoul as he snatched the letter out of her accusing hand.

_Your days at the Opera Populaire are numbered, Christine Daee will be singing on your behalf tonight. Prepare for a Great Misfortune, should you attempt to take her place._

“Why are there so many notes?”

“Who is sending them?”

Madame Giry burst into the room with her daughter; “Christine has returned.”

“And so this meeting is over.” Said one of the managers, sitting down behind his desk and resting his head in his hands, clearly as done with this situation as me.

I turned and walked away, I couldn’t take this cat fight anymore now that Carlotta is screeching. I hope they got all of the letters. It’s like a puzzle and they need all the pieces, however, I trust that Madame Giry will do me right.

Being the Opera Ghost has just gotten more interesting and yet I can’t focus on it. My job used to just be torture Carlotta to the last straw, teach Christine, and keep an eye on the manager. Now it’s torture Carlota, try and keep my mind off of Christine and her away as far as possible so she won’t see what man I really am, and baby sit the managers. Yet, no matter how much I try, my mind is really on Christine, always.

My soulmate. Two words I’d never thought I’d utter together. I don’t have a soulmate, so why does all of the evidence point otherwise.

I was ready to spend my whole life alone, and I was okay with that. I’ve never felt love so I don’t know how to love, only what I believe is love.

But here is this young girl who I’ve seen grow, and grown to love, claiming to be my soulmate, not running in horror at my face or at my anger.

Not sure I have yet process all that’s happened in the past day. Who knew so much could change in such a little time span.

I returned to my home, my fingers itching to play something, anything, to get my mind off. However, I know when I get down to my music room, I’m going to be playing music inspired by what’s happening. That’s how I get the most emotion into my songs. All of the songs written before were written in anger or despair, loneliness and longing. Longing for something that I don’t even know exist.

The best music is written out of emotion, and I hate doing it. I’m a man, I don’t like to be in touch with my emotions, yet I do it so often. With the gypsies, I cried so much because of pain, and after a while I stopped crying because I was alone and it was dark, then an even longer while, there was no more pain, only numbness.

And so I went, but now look at me, I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess, I can’t kid myself, but this new dilemma has made me even more of one.

I can’t deal with this. I sat down at the piano, pouring my heart and soul into every note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess by now I can stop saying they're smaller than usual because this, I feel like, is becoming the usual. Sorry
> 
> If there's any spelling, grammar, or any other type of mistake, please feel free to tell.


	14. Chapter 14

“Christine Daee, where have you been?” Meg said as I snuck into the ballet girls room. “After our impromptu practice after the performance, I went to your room to find a man, a very handsome man mind you, sleeping at the foot of your door. Do you have any clue what that’s about?”

“I-“

“Before you start spouting lies, I’ll just let you know I have his half of the story.”

“I wasn’t going to lie to you Meg, I’d never.”  I replied.

“Mhm, I believe that.” Meg said sarcastically.

“I was going to say I’ll tell you, but not here.” I heard some girls sigh as I said that, knowing they were trying to get another secret about my soulmate. Meg looked around too to see wandering eyes quickly flicking away as they got caught.

“Let’s go find somewhere private, I want to know what happened.” She said, grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the room. We walked down the hallways until we reached the closet where all of the past music is. We’ve found that not only do people not often come into this room, only to file away another opera once were done preforming it, but also that the vast amount of music absorbs a great amount of sound.  

“Okay so spill the details. Start from when I left your dressing room.”

“When does rehearsal start?”

“Christine stop worrying and avoiding the question. You’re the prima Dona, you make them wait.”

“But you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about me, I want to know what happened.” She pushed.

So I explained. She listened, only commenting here and there, but mostly trying to absorb everything. I started with the letter from Raoul, who I explained was the man sitting outside my door. I told her about how we were old friends, but haven’t talked to each other since I moved away.

“Is he your Soulmate?” Meg butted in.

“Focus Meg.”

“So is that a yes?” She shut up when I gave her the side eye.

I continued on, playing with the dress I put on this morning from the trunk. It was a lime green silk with white trimming around certain parts. I was surprised to find this morning that the dress fit my figure perfectly. I told her how he complimented the majesty of the performance to which she said: “I was there Christine, skip over this part.” I was quite offended, I’d listen to this story over and over.  

Raoul’s letter, my Angel, a real man. I didn’t tell her his name, though it almost slipped at some points. I told her about how I slept there, she didn’t believe me that I was innocent which says more about her than it does about me. Then, I told her about my soulmate.

“You did find your soulmate!? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“It was just this morning,” It does seem like a life time ago, yet it was only earlier this morning.

“I should have been the first to know.” She whined.

“Meg you are the first to know.”

“No, I wanted to figure it out before you found out.”

“Meg, I told you this because I trust you, which means I trust that you won’t tell anyone, not even your mother. I’m not sure how she’d feel about it.” I said seriously.

“That’s not fair, you know nobody gets a secret by that woman when she wants to know what it is.”

“I know, but I thinks she knows him. When we were talking, he mentioned her. It could have just been because he see’s everything that happens in this Opera house, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Fine, I’ll try my hardest.” She paused, standing up and holding a hand out for me to pull me up to. I dusted off the invisible dirt off my dress before she started speaking again. “So, you’re soulmates with the Opera Ghost. You should not let that get out or people will think something entirely different.”

“They won’t think that if he’s my soulmate.”

“Yeah, that’ll give them more of a reason to think that.”

“Let’s get to rehearsal.”  

We walked down the hallway, a different conversation flowing from our lips as to not let anything slip. As we rounded the corner, I could hear Carlotta screeching the aria. Confused, I looked over at Meg to see if she knew something, but she looked just as confused as me.

We peeked through the curtains to see Carlotta, finished with the song, yelling something in Italian to the managers. She stormed off stage, shoving me in the shoulder as she passed. Everyone started to file back onto the stage and watched as the manager’s argued, but not able to pick up any points of conversation.

“Christine,” I heard from the audience, I looked and there standing next to the managers, was Raoul who was rushing up to the stage. I sighed and rolled my eyes subtly before turning to him as he approached and putting on a fake smile.  “Where did you go last night, I went back to your room and you weren’t there.”

“I just uh-“a lie, I need a lie, why is my brain blanking out, I need a lie!

“I searched the Opera House, asking around for you, but nobody had seen you leave. I thought for a second you finished getting ready so you went out to wait for me, but when I checked you weren’t there either.”

“I-uh-I went out to –uh, tell my father.”

“I thought you said your father was dead. Christine why are you lying to me.” He said, trying to be intimidating, but really coming off as a lost puppy.

“I am not lying,” I said, sticking my nose up. “I went to his grave. I like to speak to him from time to time to keep him to track with my life. It’s cathartic for me, like he’s still here with me.”

“Oh,” he said, looking a little embarrassed.

“Now if you don’t mind, I have to get back to practice.” I said, trying to get out of further questioning.

“Mademoiselle Daee, a word please.” Thank god for this, easy escape. I walked down the steps to meet the managers half way.

“We’ve decided that after tonight’s performance, which is the last, you will not be the Prima Dona for La Carlotta has decided to return to us.” They said with grim faces. This was not good, if there’s one thing I do know about Erik, it’s that he will not take nicely to this.

“Okay,” I said calmly, then walked away, letting them deal with the after math of their actions, however, I do know this day will end with a talk from him.

* * *

 _Okay_ , that’s it, that’s all she has to say about this, Okay? No, this won’t do. That screeching cow will never outshine my Christine, nor will I let her take that place back. They will all pay for taking Christine out of the spot light.

I turned and left where I was hidden in the shadows in box five, making sure that my footsteps were heard throughout the room. As I left I could hear whispers that the Phantom was there and the managers calling them insane in the nicest way possible.  

I walked to through the walls that lead to La Carlotta’s room, hoping to catch her there alone. Luck was in my favor because it was just her and Piangi, who I don’t mind striking fear into either, it makes him sing better.

“You’ll regret that” I said through the wall. Instantly the two shut up, looks of horror written across their faces.

“Regret what, what are we going to regret?” Piangi whispered to Carlotta.

“Me taking my rightfully deserved part back from the brat.”

“Maybe you should give it back, he doesn’t sound to happy.” Piangi replied, clearly worried for his life.

“That girl wouldn’t know tune if it hit her in the face, I’m keeping the part.” Carlotta stated surely.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Positive.”

I quickly took out my red pen and a scrap of paper and wrote on it: ‘ _There will be consequences, O.G.’_ before sliding it under the door and rushing back into the wall.

“There’s a paper.” I heard Piangi said followed by rustling around the room and most likely picking it up and reading it. “‘There will be consequences.’”

“Consequences? He’s a ghost or a figment of the ballet rat’s imagination depending on who you talk to, not someone who can mess with reality. What is he going to do? That’s right, nothing.” Carlotta said, her voice wavering even as she tries to talk herself down. “I’m playing that role Piangi, there’s nothing that can stop me from taking back my spot from that little brat.”

I snickered, she was going to regret this, and after I’m done with her, she’ll never come back. I walked away, going to get ready for Christine’s performance tonight. Hopefully she’ll be as good as last night. I wasn’t lying when I said she did utterly perfect. That entire crowd, including me, was completely entranced. The things her voice could do if it were paired with my music, we could hypnotize the world, then maybe I could actually give her a real life.

I stopped, thinking about it. I’d have to provide for this woman, a woman that deserves to be in the sunlight, stuck with a man who hides in the shade. She should just forget me, be with that Raoul kid, he seems entranced enough about her that he would probably forget his own soulmate. However, there are consequences for not being with that to whom you’re destined to, they could always adopt.

Yeah right, an upper class family adopting, in my nightmares.

I sighed and continued walking, trying to find a way for Christine to recognize that I’m here without the rest of the crowd noticing. I know she’ll read the signs perfectly no matter what I do. Though she’s only known Erik for one day, even less than, she’s known her Angel for many years.

I changed out of my regular suit into my nicer suit and made it back up to the auditorium just in time to see the curtains open. Originally I had walked into box five, expecting it to be empty, but there was the Viscount once more, hanging over the post, drooling over Christine who isn’t even on stage yet.

I watched the whole performance from the overhang, only leaving during the curtain call to get back to Christine on time. She did amazing once more, not that I was expecting anything less from her. I’ve noticed she is a perfectionist when it comes to her singing probably because I am a perfectionist when I teach her.

I arrived to her room before anyone else and placed a single black rose I made myself out of paper Mache. I have a lot of time on my hands, and this rose will last a life time and not die after four days. I hid back behind the mirror just in time for the women to come into Christine’s room followed by Christine.

The first woman dumped the flowers filling her arms on to the vanity table, some falling over the sides onto the floor she had so many. After the women helped her take off her hair, makeup and dress, which she got stuck in, she rushed them all out of the room.

The second the last woman’s tail was out the door, Christine went to shut it, but a foot stuck its way in. I watched as it shocked Christine and she opened the door cautiously. I couldn’t really see who was on the other side, but by the look on Christine’s face and the voice coming from the man, you could say that I wasn’t very happy.

“May I come in?” He asked snobbishly. Christine hesitated, looking in the direction of the mirror- me – before sighing and opening the door. I was disappointed, a little in her, but more in the fact that the boy can’t catch a hint from the letter I sent him.

“I didn’t think I was going to get a chance to talk to you. You seem so busy ever since you’ve become Prima Donna.” He said.

“Well it is my childhood dream so I can’t really complain.” She replied.

“Oh,” he paused “it is? I thought your childhood dream was to become a princess.” He said, a little shocked.

“No, that was every little girls fantasy, a dream is one that sticks with you, and something that is actually reachable.” She explained.

“I could make you a princess.” He said confidently.

A silent pause filled the room.

“Excuse me?” She questioned, once again looking in my direction for help. I don’t know why, I can’t help her, I’m practically fuming back here at what he’s implying, and I think she gets the hint to.

“If you married me, you wouldn’t be a princess, but you’d be a Viscountess, if that’s good enough.” He said, looking away nervously.

“Oh Raoul, I can’t marry you.”

He looked back down at her, shell shocked. “Well why ever not?”

“I have a soulmate Raoul.”

“And how do you know it’s not me.”

“Because I’ve turned eighteen Raoul, and my soul connection with my soulmate is that we feel each other’s pain, I think at least.” What is a soul connection? Is that why Christine has all my scars?

“Maybe that’s my pain.”

“Trust me Raoul, it’s not. I have someone waiting for me just like you have someone waiting out there for you, but we can still be friends.”

“So you’ve met him.” He chimed out instantly. She blushed, looking away towards the ground this time. “That’s who you were talking to yesterday after I left, your soulmate. Well, where is he, I’d like to meet him.”

“Not here.”

“Not a very good soulmate to miss one of your performances is he?”

“He was at the performance, he’s just doing something.”

“Well what’s he doing, what’s more important than seeing his soulmate after her magnificent performance?” They were quickly jabbing back and forth in this conversation. The only reason I was able to follow along is because my brain moves fast, but apparently Christine’s doesn’t because she didn’t really think about what she was saying.

“He’s putting our daughter to bed.” _I’m doing what now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is actually a decent size and out earlier than usual because I had more time to work on it.   
> As always if there's any mistakes at all, tell me.


	15. Chapter 15

“Daughter? You have a daughter?” He questioned, starting to look uncomfortable. 

“That is what I said,” I laughed nervously. 

“But you’re not married.”

“Stage name, can’t go changing it when I’m already known.”

“But you were a ballerina before this, and not well known, how young is your daughter?”

“Not that old.” I said, pausing in-between each word. Though Raoul couldn’t hear it, I could hear Erik laughing nervously with me, slightly mocking me for my terrible lying skills. I know he’s watching and I have no clue as to how we are going to approach this. We’ve only known were soulmates for one day, not even, and now I’m making false lies that we have children. Not to mention, if he asks to see this child, I don’t have one to show him.

“So you danced while pregnant,” I think he knows I’m lying. 

“Of course not, that would put me in danger.”

“How did you not get let go then, I thought that when you got married they let the young women go, especially when they got pregnant.”

“I wasn’t pregnant, we adopted.” I should get him out of here before it’s too late, this has gone on for too long. I am surprised, however, how fast I’m able to come up with these lies, probably explains why they’re so terrible.

“What does he do?” Finally, something I don’t have to lie to say. 

“Musician.”

“How did you meet?”

“I work with musicians for a living.”

“So he works here, then.”

“Uh, no, I met him for my lessons.”

“So you just knew, since you weren’t eighteen yet.”

“Yes and no, it was the stereotypical that I liked him yes, but it was really when I had something on my face as did he.” There was an awkward pause, and I was hoping he would leave, having all the answers that he wanted from me. If he tried to match them somewhere, it wouldn’t add up at all, but hopefully he won’t. Though he probably will, thinking that I’m making excuses to get him off me.

Honestly, if Raoul was my soulmate, I wouldn’t have been disappointed. I won’t deny that he is a great looking man, and probably wouldn’t have been as pestery if I hadn’t already been destined for someone else.

“I should go, but we should still have dinner sometime, to catch up.” He said, walking towards the door. My shoulders relaxed, knowing that I won’t dig myself any deeper into this grave.

“Definitely, I’d love to catch up with my old best friend, I’ll send you a letter when I’m free, though it is always busy here. After the season is over most likely.” I really would like to meet up with him, be free for just one night and not be stuck in this place.

“Till next time.” He said opening the door, “Little Lotte.” Then he was gone. I truly hate that name, it reminds me of my father, and of when we were kids, not that that was a bad time in my life.

I let out a large breath, slumping down onto my bed, head in my hand resting on my knees. I heard the creak of the mirror open, then there were feet in on the floor in front of me. I looked up at him, unable to read his face, but his eyes showed slight amusement, which made me calm also.

“Has anybody ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?” Erik said, sitting down next to me on the bed.

“What was I supposed to say to get him off my back? That boy is persistent.”

“I don’t know, something like ‘he’s waiting outside’ or ‘stuck in the crowd probably.’ You could have said I was milking the cows, it would have been a better lie than we have a child.”

“I know, I just freaked.” He’s terrible at comforting people. “I should probably tell Meg before he catches her and I can explain. She’ll kill me.” I stood up and walked over to my vanity table, pulling out a pencil and paper and started writing.

_Dear Meg,_

_I don’t know if Raoul caught up with you before you got this letter, but if he didn’t just go with it, I’ll explain it all to you later. It’s been a long day and you know I’m a terrible liar. Whatever you do, don’t let him ask the managers or Madame Giry because I like my job. Meet me in my room before practice on Monday and I’ll tell you then or on the way._

_Sincerely, Christine._

_P.S. what he says is not true, so don’t go prying me on that either._

I folded the letter and wrote, _to Meg Giry_ on the back. I cracked the door, stopping the first person I saw which was one of the women that help me get changed, and told her to bring it to Meg. Those women usually stay out of my business, I hope. I turned around and went back over to the bed, plopping down on it so that our sides were touching.

“May I?” I asked, doing a little head wobble to get across that I wanted to rest my head on his shoulder. He didn’t get it because he looked both shocked and confused. “Rest my head, on your shoulder. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, no, I mean sure.” I smiled softly before resting my head, breathing out a sigh with so much stress pent up in it. It went silent for some time, and I could feel him starting to get stiff. However, right as I was about to get up he asked: “What’s her name?”

“Huh?”

“The boy never asked for her name, what would it be?” I lifted my head and looked at him in shock. Just this morning, he was denying that he even had a soulmate, and now he’s asking what our imaginary child’s name would be? So much for baby steps.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t one of those girls who picked out baby names.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing he didn’t ask.” He said harshly before standing up. It was such a nice sentimental moment, what went so wrong? He held his gloved hand out to me as to pull me up. I reached out and grabbed it, and stood up right as he pulled. I went flying into his chest and there he caught me and steadied us before we could tumble down. I stepped away flustered and noticed how there was a slight pink to his cheeks also.

“We should go before the Giry girl comes storming in with questions.” He said, turning and opening the mirror again.

* * *

 

Why was I so cruel? She probably just said that she didn’t have any baby names because she didn’t want to offend me or rush into anything. It was just nice to think of a normal life for once, to have a child. That will never happen though, and even if I do have a child, it would probably be scared of me. The trip down was filled once again with dead end conversations, each with an awkward silence in between.

“Can’t you just tell me something about yourself?” she finally asked when we were getting onto the boat.

“My name is Erik.” I said, pushing the boat into the lake.

“That’s it, that’s all you can tell me. Your soulmate who has come down with you into underground house willingly. The person you know so much about, yet I know nothing about you, and you can only tell me your name. Well Erik, we’re never going to get anywhere if you don’t open up.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. I’ve created a true Diva. I sigh and continued rowing. “At least tell me your last name.”

“Well Christine, that comes-“ I started before she cut me off.

“If you finish that sentence with ‘a long story’ I’m going to push you out of this boat. Tell me the long story, we have time.”

“You are quite pushy you know that.” I said.

“Well if I wasn’t then I’d be soulmates with a stranger.”

“At least let me get us to the shore first.” She huffed in a show of content, knowing that she was at least going to get an answer. I was really just using this as time to come up with an answer. I’m not going to lie to her, she’ll somehow find out the truth, I just had to figure out a way to say it. Honestly, it’s not that long of a story, but if she starts asking questions, it will turn into an all-night telling’s of my life.

Then she’ll probably hate me. No one wants to be with someone who’s spilled more blood then they’ve made in their body. I’ve been trying to keep her close before she’s destined to run off.

I was struck out of my thoughts by the boat hitting the shore. I silently cursed at my carelessness. That could have put a hole in it or even tipped it. This water is so disgusting that not even a monster like me would want to swim in it.

Christine hopped out of the boat before I could help her and by the time I had finished tying it up, she was in the kitchen, looking for the supplies to what I believe is to make tea.

“Goodness Erik, who needs this many cabinets.” I reached over her to one of the top cabinets and pulled out what she was looking for and handing it to her. Then I found the tea pot and filled it, and put it on the stove and turned it on.

“Alright, start.” She commanded.

“I don’t have a last name.” Once I said that, I could see many emotions running over her face before finally she was able to voice one.

“Why not?”

“Why do you think Christine. I was disgraced.”

“Were you parents so pompous that they couldn’t accept one little thing wrong with their son.” There it is, the questions that are going to make this a long story. “It’s not that bad” She said looking away.

“That is the first time I’ve ever heard those words.”  I said truthfully. Her face softened with pity, the look I hate most. People would come to the circus and see me trapped inside that cage and all they had was either laughter, horror, or pity, but none of them tried to help me.

“So they just threw you on the streets then when you were just a little boy? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, no, I was kept by my mother and treated like I wasn’t there, and if I was, I was more like a slave. There was no love in that house for me, so I ran away thinking nothing could be worse than this.” The tea pot started whistling as I said, “God, I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“How young were you,” She said lifting grabbing two cups while I readied the pot, “When you ran away, I mean.”

“Six” Clash. That’s my good china too.

“Six?” She said picking up the cup she dropped, luckily it didn’t break. “Where did you go?”

“A gypsy camp.” I said simply, pouring the hot liquid.

“You worked at a gypsy camp when you were six? Who does that to a child?”

“I didn’t exactly work there, I mean, at first I did, mopped the floors, swept the hay, but then they saw my face.”

“’The living dead.’” She said in an astonished voice, like she had pieced something together. I stopped in my tracks when I heard that name.

“How do you know that?” I insisted, turning to her. She pulled up her right sleeve and showed me the words painted across them. “How- How long have you had that?”

“I was born with it.” My breath caught in my throat. It’s all my fault that she has that, if I hadn’t run away.

“I am so sorry” I whispered.

“Why? It’s not your fault.” She said rolling her sleeve back down and turning back to the tea cups, now dropping the metal containers with tea in them into each cup.

“But-“

“Did you ask for those tattoos?” She said, turning to me with a serious face.

“Well, no, but”

“Then it’s not your fault. Sure my parents were a little shocked to find out that I already had a soulmate, and one that has a tattoo, but at least they knew I had a soulmate, I can’t imagine what your life was like. I mean for fifteen years, not knowing you had someone on the other side. That must have been terrible.” She picked up both tea cups and started walking out to the living room. I grabbed the honey, purposely forgetting the sugar.

“I was told from a young age that I don’t have a soulmate, I never even thought to think that they were wrong. I mean, who could love this face, not even a mother could love.”

“What about your father, what did he do?” Christine carefully put the tea cups down, next to each other then sat down. I stood, starting at her, why would she put them next to each other, does she want me to sit next to her? Probably not.

I put the honey down, that being the only thing I grabbed, then took my tea cup while she was occupied and sat down on the one seater.

“Low blow there, not bringing out the sugar.” She said sitting back, a little confusion crossed her face because I wasn’t sitting next to her, but I ignored it.

“I think you’ve had enough to last the week.”

“Fine, back to the story then. Your father, did he do nothing.” Touchy subject, she’s getting right to the point.

“Never met him”

“Well, why ever not?”

“Long story.” Her head snapped in my direction, and she glared at me over the lip of her tea cup while she was sipping the hot liquid. I sighed, continuing. “My mother and father swore up and down that they were soulmates, but neither had turned eighteen when I was conceived. My mother told me that when he turned eighteen, he left, because they weren’t.” There was an awkward pause of her taking in all of the information.

“He sounds no good anyways.” I snorted, she did have a point.

“Neither of my parents were any good, though I don’t truly think my mother hated me for my face well, not the distortion on it away ways. She always told me I took after my father in a sour voice, I think that’s why she hated me. The maids though, they thought I was repulsive.”

“You had maids?”

“Oh, yes,”

“You remember much more of your childhood than I do.”

“When you have a life like mine it’s hard to forget.” I took a sip of my tea. “Tell me Christine, what you do remember of your childhood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOHH back storyish kinda 
> 
> Any mistakes, please feel free to share.


	16. Chapter 16

“Like I said I don’t remember much of it, after my mother passed, we spent most time traveling.”

“What about the boy, you seem to have met before.” I thought he doesn’t like Raoul, so why would he ask about him. I guess he’s just trying to find out more about me, but he knows who I was and who I’ve become, I’m still trying to get the slightest detail about him.

“It was summer time, we used to play together every day. My father also gave him violin lessons before he was offered a job here, then the rest is history.”

“That seems like quite a boring life.” He said before taking a sip of his tea.

“I don’t think it’s that boring, it’s not every day a girls voice teacher comes out from behind a mirror, brings her to his underground layer, and then turns about to be his soulmate, I’d say I have a pretty eventful life, you could even write an Opera about it. Plus not everyone works for gypsies.” I placed my empty tea cup on the table before reclining back and getting more comfortable.

“I wouldn’t exactly say work for them.” He stood up and grabbed the tea cups, taking them into the kitchen. I grabbed the honey, following him.

“How long were you there for?”

“Fifteen”

“Years?”

“Oh, no” He turned around to face me. “Until I was fifteen.” That means he was there right when I was born, which is a little weird to think about.

“Then where did you go?”

“That’s a story for another time.”

“But-“

“I don’t really want to get into it right now Christine, it opens up bad wounds.” I grew silent, not sure of what to say to that. He noticed the awkward silence and coughed to fill it. He continued putting things away before turning to me a suggesting we practice. I nodded in agreement and followed it into the music room.

When I walked in there, I was shocked to see that he still hadn’t cleaned it up from the last time I was in there. There was music in a clutter on the ground, some instruments were out of their cases or their stands, but they were obviously treated in care but still showed signs of anger.

He noticed it too, it was hard not to, but I could see the uncomfortable look on his face as he looked around.

“I forgot I did this or I would have cleaned it up first.” Erik started into the room, picking up sheet music along the way. I followed him, helping. As I picked them up, I read some of it to see if I could recognize some of it.

It was a score, I could tell that, and it was all very intricate, not a melody repeating itself. I couldn’t recognize it, it was probably just really old, and he had kept it and it revisiting it. As he was straightening up a violin, which was carved in such an intricate detail, not only was it a beautiful shape, it had curved lines in it that flared out, it was beautiful, I picked up an empty score, the paper looked pretty new. It had a title though, _Point of no Return_ , this I’ve never heard of, and the fact that it was empty raised a lot of questions in my head.

“What is this music.” His reply was instant.

“Something new.”

“I’ll say, this one doesn’t even have any music to it. Is it an Opera?”

“Yes” He said simply before taking the papers out of my hands.

“How long have you been composing the Opera?”

“How did you?”

“It wasn’t that hard to figure it out Erik. It was an empty sheet of music, unless you’re listening to a song and writing it down as it goes, you’re composing your own.”

“I’ve been composing it for a while now.”

“What’s it about?” We were still finishing tidying up. I didn’t quite know where everything went, so I let him lead, not wanting to get yelled at because I know he’s a perfectionist. All of the music was in piles on the grand piano lid, he said he would organize it later because we have practice now.

As I slowly lowered the last instrument into its case and closed it, I felt him staring at me. After the click of the locks, I turned around to catch him and he blushed when he met my eyes. His eyes are such a beautiful colour. A mix between gold and hazel. Even the one that is sunken in, I can still see the gold in it.

Erik sat down at the piano, quickly playing an arpeggiated scale up and down the piano before playing a chord and turning to me, as my cue to sing. He’d taken his gloves off, and as I warmed my voice up, I noticed his fingers. They were bony, sure, but were also very languid. It looked like they barely touched the keys, and yet the sound echoes throughout, and over the lake. I used to be able to hear him play, the sound carried right up into my room. Waking up early to him music was something I’ll always love doing and I hope it never stops.

The time of night was forgotten as the music threw us into a trance. It could have been nine at night, or it could have been five in the morning. Neither of us cared, we were caught in a loop together, trapped in the music and neither of us wanted to escape. I was surely done when he started singing the duet with me. I voice was pure fold, I never knew something could sound that beautiful. I wonder if that’s the way he feels about my voice. 

* * *

 

I haven’t seen Christine in a long time. I kind of over exaggerating, but she’s been spending so much time with her soulmate, which it’s only been like one day, and since she wasn’t a ballerina for some time, she hasn’t been coming to practice. I know she’s just trying to get to know him, and she’ll be back to being a ballerina on Monday, but still.

“Meg Giry, are you going to continue holding your laces or are you actually going to participate.” My mother yelled at me. She’s always twice as hard on me as she is any of the other girls because she doesn’t want to be biased, but her pushing me harder has only made me better than them, so isn’t that still biased? When I brought it up to her she just ignored me and told me to go practice because “if you have enough time to blab, you have plenty of time for practice.”

***

After practice, I sat back in the practice room, massaging my feet with some of the other girls. They talked, well gossiped, while doing it. I didn’t really contribute much to the conversation, more focused on trying to get my feet to relax again after being abused by my mother.

“Hey Meg, you’re close to Christine, what happened to her, is she ever going to come back to practice.” Jammes asked.

I sat and thought about it for a second and took a breath to start telling a lie when one of Christine’s dressers walked in a handed me a letter. I thanked her and looked at it for a moment. It was defiantly Christine’s hand writing, but if she had something to say, couldn’t she just come and see me.

I noticed that the other girls in the room had lost interest in me and started packing up, ready to leave. The note read:

 _Dear Meg, I don’t know if Raoul caught up with you before you got this letter, (_ He didn’t but that’s weird and a little worrying.) _but if he didn’t just go with it,_ (With what?) _I’ll explain it to you later._ (How am I supposed to go with it if you don’t tell me what it is, my face will give me away.) _It’s been a long day and you know I’m a terrible liar._ (I’ll say, I’ve gotten in trouble so many times because of you) _Whatever you do, don’t let him ask the manager or Madame Giry because I like my job._ (That’s not very calming and I hope she knows that. Nobody can keep secrets from my mother, how does she expect me to. I’m already hiding the secret that you’ve met you soulmate and now I don’t even know the lie I’m keeping. You owe me one big Christine, BIG.) _Meet me in my room before practice on Monday and I’ll tell you then or on the way._

_Sincerely, Christine._

_P.S. What he says is not true, so don’t go prying me on that either._

Great, now I’ve got to wait until Monday to get some answers. I sighed and stood up, grabbing my stuff and walking out of the practice room. I was so close to my room when I was stopped by the Viscount.

“Oh thank God, Meg,” Raoul said, putting a hand on my shoulder, stopping me and turning me around.  “I have a couple questions about Christine I was hoping you would answer.” Guess I don’t have to wait until Monday to find out what she’s talking about.

“Yeah sure, she is my best friend, but don’t think I’m going to expose her secrets.”  

“She told me she was pregnant,” Pregnant?! “Well not pregnant, but that she had a child.” Oh Christine, we need to teach you how to lie. You’re a great actress, but you never think ahead and always get caught.

“Right, well let me put my stuff down in my room, and we’ll continue this conversation.” I turned around a kept on my way, fuming at how little information she gave to me to hide this. Who tells a lie that they have a child? Where is she even going to get a child that she can show him if he asks?

I opened the door and threw the stuff on my bed, scaring some of the little girls in there who squealed noticing the Viscount behind me. I slammed the door in their wake, silencing some of the high pitched sound. When I turned around, I noticed Raoul had a slight blush on his face.

“Still not used to girls flaunting over you?” I said, walking away and leaving him in my dust. He did a stupid little jog to catch up to me.

“It’s not really that, you know, it’s just weird.”

“So it is that.”

“You have to understand what I’m talking about, you really pretty, don’t boys flaunt over you all the time?” Noticing his mouth running, he shut up, a bright red brushed across his cheeks.

“I own the fact that boys love me, it really helps with the confidence.”

“Yeah well, I was taught that I have to be humble about everything I do.”

“This is why I wouldn’t like being in a rich and prominent family, plus I wouldn’t be able to be a ballerina, and that, in my book, would he hell.” We approached the cafeteria, not the classiest place I could have taken him, but I work in an Opera house and this is the best we’ve got. It was pretty much empty in here, but we still both headed to a table in the back that people wouldn’t really notice us.

“So does Christine really have a child?”

“Yes, you think she’d lie to you?”

“I don’t know, it’s just she didn’t seem so sure of herself when she was saying it.”

“That’d because the managers don’t know, I’m sure. I mean, if she has a child, she has to give it a good life somehow, and lord knows she doesn’t want to work in a factory.”

“I guess, does that mean the managers don’t know.”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t think so. But what I do think is that if you really do love her like you say, I wouldn’t let it get out. She doesn’t bring the child around here, I’ve only met her when she was just born.”

“Christine said she was adopted,” Of course she did, why wouldn’t she.

“Oh, yes, but we were there for the birth, the mother couldn’t afford to have a child, but she does still see her, I believe.”

“Oh, I see.” He was obviously very sad, He must have always thought that Christine was his, yet he’s sitting here with no clue as to who his soulmate is, just like me.

“Listen viscount,”

“Raoul,” he cut me off, “You can call me Raoul.”

“Okay, listen Raoul, even though Christine wasn’t the one for you, there is someone out there for you. You have no clue how envious I was when I found out that Christine met her soulmate. She’s spent a while with her marks and yet I still have none. But I’m still supportive of her, I suggest if you want her still in your life, you do the same. I’m sure she still loves you, but just not in that way.”

“Yeah you’re right I guess.”

I’m always right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh Meg's point of view. I felt like it was a long time coming and I couldn't help myself, with the dead ends in Christine and Eriks point of view, I felt it needed to get a little juicy with Meg. 
> 
> As always if there's any mistakes of any kind, please feel free to tell.


	17. Chapter 17

Monday morning arrived and I groaned into my soft pillow. I don’t know where Erik found these or how he got them down here, but I never want to get up. The sound of my curtain opening just made me groan more because I knew it was Erik coming to wake me. The smell of tea fill my nose and so I finally pushed myself up from laying on my stomach, face buried in the pillow, to facing the man with the tea.

There was sugar on the tray and I couldn’t have been more grateful, he’s been keeping this stuff from me all weekend and he’d hid it. I tried to search for it when Erik wasn’t paying attention or when he was playing on his piano, but I had no luck in finding it.

He put the warm tray down on my lap and sat down on the bed by my feet. There was a piece of toast with jam on it, I noticed also on the tray. I picked up the spoon and started loading sugar into my cup before he cleared his throat. I put the spoon down and took a sip of my tea. Really honestly, there wasn’t that much sugar, only like the equivalent of three sugar squares, and these cups were a decent size.

“You’re going back to ballet practice today, correct?” Erik said, breaking the silence. I took a bite of the toast as I nodded my head. He looked away, clearly not happy with what he was hearing.

“I don’t mind, really,” I said after I swallowed, “I get to see my friends again, and not be glared at by the chorus girls that think they deserved the part more than me.”

“Nobody deserves any part over you, Christine, not even that cow Carlotta.” I snorted at that nickname, I’ve never heard anyone refer to her as a cow.

“That’s a little mean, Erik, don’t you think, not wrong, but still mean.”

“Well I only speak the truth.” He stood up, about to leave before he turned back to me, “When you’re ready, come out and I’ll take you up. I remember that you wanted to talk with little Giry about the incident, so you better hurry up before you run out of time.”

I nodded, but he’d left before he saw it. I quickly ate the rest of my toast before setting the tray on my bedside table. I threw on something very simple, not even getting fully dressed because I knew I’d have to get out of it quick to get into my ballet uniform. I chugged down the rest of my tea before grabbing the tray and leaving my room.

Erik was standing at the bookshelf at the bottom of the staircase near the kitchen. At the sound of my footfalls, he turn his head my way. I caught his mouth turn to a slight smile and it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Throughout this entire time here, I’ve barely seen his smile, he always would turn his head away, but when I caught one, it made my day better. He should smile more often.

“Are you ready,” he asked, taking the tray out of my hand and placing it on the kitchen counter. We made our way over to the lake and I got into the boat as he was untying the rope. I yawned, ready to fall asleep again, but trying to stay awake. I just waited to the sugar in the tea to kick in so I won’t be so tired.

The entire trip up was filled with silence, which wasn’t helping me stay awake, so I started humming. Nothing too complicated because it was only morning, and my voice was still ruff, but just simple scales. Eventually, Erik joined in with me. I’d start humming a song and he’s join in soon after. Even the walk through the passage ways was filled with our music.

Then, I saw my room through the mirror at the end of the path, and it was all over to soon. We stopped and stared at each other, hoping to drag this moment out before we can see each other again.

“I’ll write to you.” He whispered, I could feel his breath hitting me in the face, and yet I didn’t mind it “Somewhere only you can see.”

“I’ll write back.” I smile at him as leaned into me to open the mirror. The urge to kiss him was unbearable, yet I knew I couldn’t, he’s still getting used to the fact that there’s someone out there for him and moving too fast may break what we have. We’re getting along nicely, we’re trying to see why we fit together so perfectly.

Every couple goes through this. They meet each other, the get to know each other, then some will marry and get to know each other in _every way_ possible, or some do it the other way round.

The mirror was wide open, but I didn’t step out and he didn’t make me. Though I could kill Meg because she scared the daylights out of us by making her presence known. Erik was more petrified than anything else because somebody had just saw him, in person, and he wasn’t wearing all black and intimidating them, this time, she was intimidating him.

“I’m Meg, though I think you know that, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” He said before putting a hand on my back and giving me a light push out of the way before closing the mirror. I could hear his footsteps receding as I turned and glared at Meg.

“What,” She said, pretending to not know what she did wrong. “You said to meet you in your room before lessons.”

“Did you have to scare him away, we were having a moment.”

“I know and it was making me uncomfortable. Why do you get to be all cutesy with your soulmate and yet I don’t have one?”

“Meg you know you have a soulmate and it’s because I’m eighteen. You only have a little more to go, I think you’ll live.”

“Alright whatever, now let’s talk about that child of yours, how is she doing by the way, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“So you met with Raoul.”

“Yes, I met with Raoul, and right in time too, I had just gotten the letter.”

“Oh, thank god, I was afraid it wouldn’t have gotten to you in time, and Lord knows that Raoul is wandering around the Opera house searching for answers.”

“Yes, well, who is you daughter going to be. What if he asks to see her?”

“Well, then I’m screwed.”

“I told him that you kept her secret. The managers don’t know, the mother you adopted her from, because you had to be all complicated, still communicates and sees her child.”

“Thank you Meg, I don’t know where I would be without you.”

“You’d probably be in jail for coming up with those terrible lies.” I laughed, then remembered that I had to get back into my ballet uniform. I had Meg help me because we were kind of on the late side.

When we walked into the practice room, the girls were already in there stretching, but luckily, Madame Giry wasn’t there yet.  They were in the middle of gossiping, you could tell because they were whispering in huddles.

“What are they talking about?”

“I have an idea.” Meg said guiding me over to the group with Jammes.

“It was absolutely beautiful, but still weird why haven’t we heard it before?”

“No woman around here, especially one that can sing like that has died, so who is it.” I was highly confused at what they were talking about, but the look on Meg’s face told me she knew.

“Wait what are you guys talking about?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“Oh Christine, you didn’t hear, the last couple of nights, there has been a beautiful singing voice, one that could compete with yours, echoing through the Opera house.” Said Jammes. Crap.

“The entire Opera House?” I asked, worried about Madame Giry finding out.

“Well it was happening at least in our room.” Because of the thin wall Erik used to talk to me through, hopefully.

“Well, if it’s not anyone around here, we should give her a name.”

“The Phantoms mistress,”

“That sounds doesn’t sound right.”

“No, the Phantress”

The slam of the door told us that Madame Giry was in the room, we all instantly turned silent, waiting for her first command. I turned around to face her and she was staring at me, seeing right through my soul and reading all of my secrets from my eyes.  

I glanced away and went to the corner of the room. I pulled my pen out, I’ve been keeping one on me since I could write back, but I haven’t written much because we’ve been spending so much time together. On my skin, I wrote; _Madame Giry knows._

Truly it’s not that big of a problem, once it gets all sorted out, it will be all fine and we’ll all live as a happy family. However, that’s not to say that I won’t be talked to and talked to, making sure I “know what I’m getting into.” I don’t want that talk, it’s awkward, no matter who you’re getting it from. I mean, this woman practically raised me.

Now, I’m not sure that she knows that we’re soulmates, which is worse, because then I’ll get the “There’s someone else out there for you,” talk.

_Knows what._

I saw the words slowly appear on my skin, and it was so magical. I’ve always seen the words already there. Practice was over, I was getting change and there’d be a new piece of music written across my skin, but I’ve never seen in it action.

_That we’ve been together_

_Is that such a problem?_

_We’re going to get a talk_

“Christine, would you like to join us. I can’t imagine that you’re still perfect after being out for so long.” I put the pen down and hurried over to where Meg was and started stretching next to her.

“Talking to your Boo Boo?”

“Shut up Meg” I laughed. Who even says something like that? “I won’t ever call him my ‘Boo Boo’.”

“What do you call him then, h-“

“His name Meg,” I cut her off, not sure was she was going to finish that sentence with, but also not keen to find out.

“Well you haven’t told me his name yet” She groaned. Even still, she’s trying to find out more about my love life.

“And you won’t find out unless he tells you. I’m not going to tell you things about the most secretive person you may ever meet.” She rolled her eyes and held her free hand out to me in a silent gesture only us two knew what met. I grabbed her hand and wrote his name on the back of it with my finger.

She smile and devious smile then said, “What a great name to scream out when-“

“Oh my GOD, Meg you absolute minx.” I laughed trying to cover up what she said. I didn’t want to other girls thinking I was doing that. I don’t even know half about him, and while I didn’t want to wait until I was married, I didn’t want to give myself to a stranger.

I’ve heard all about it though. Alluring whispers filled my ear since I was twelve maybe even before, but I hadn’t even the slightest idea what they were talking about until I was twelve, and not even then still. Ballet girls would sneak in after midnight, spilling the dirty details about what happened just thirty minutes before. They had no shame, truly, because the rumors of us being harlots had to come from somewhere, and if they’re going to think that, why waste your time trying to prove that you’re not when you could shut them up the easy way.

That’s what most of the girls though anyways.

When practice was over, I remembered exactly why I was so happy to become the star of the show. My feet were so sore, and I was covered in a sheet of sweat. I sat down and practically ripped my shoes off, trying to get my feet to breathe. I was massaging my feet, talking with Meg and Jammes when Madame Giry walked over.

“I’d like to speak to you when you’re done.” I looked over at Meg and Jammes and they both had looks of pity on their faces.

Crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt for a while like I was losing what I was doing, but I think I found it again. Originally I was going to make Raoul out to be the bad guy, like he constantly tries to get with Christine, and she constantly refuses, so then he gets drunk one night and goes a little to far, but then I figured that wasn't fair, so I'm changing it. 
> 
> If there's any mistakes at all, please feel free to tell.


	18. Chapter 18

“I have to assume you know why I called you here Christine,” Madame Giry started and we both took out seats, her behind on desk, and me in the death chair. Us ballet girls call it that because death would be a nicer outcome than sitting in this chair, knowing you’re going to get in trouble by the most menacing person there is.

“I think so,” I said, looking down at my hands clasped on my lap. I noticed words starting to appear there, but in just a glance, I couldn’t read what was there.

“Okay, we’ll then I just wanted to say,” she paused, looking down and fixing some papers on her desk before looking up with a big smile on her face, confusing me. “Congratulations.”

_Huh?_

“Well Christine, you’re looking at me like I have three heads. I said congratulations, you know, about you and Erik. It took you both long enough.”

_Wait she knew?_

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, who do you take me as? I first saw the marks on Erik, but then you came in with the same ones on you when you were young. It took me a second to wonder why a seven year old would have tattoo’s, but then I realized I saw them before and, though it was a bit weird at the time, after getting to know you, I knew you were perfect for him. Then you turned 18 and, well, we know how that turned out, I wasn’t sure you would want to meet someone who hurt you so bad, and I got worried because he got just as hurt getting those scars.

“Oh and it took so long for you both to figure it out, but I didn’t realize that you did until I heard you singing with him.”

“Thank you for the congratulations Madame Giry, I’ll make sure to tell Erik what you said.” I said standing up. She cleared her throat, telling me to sit back down. I did as told and looked down at my hand seeing Erik’s writing on it.

Truly, he has messy hand writing, but since I have had so many years of practice in reading it, I could read it fluently, also adding the fact he writes in my mother language.

_Is everything okay?_

I wanted to write back that it wasn’t but that may make Madame Giry mad.

“I will be sending for both you and Erik, but I figured you and I would have a talk, just girls.”

No, no no no no no. I don’t want to. Not this talk. Not right now. I can’t do this. I wasn’t planning on it, not right now at least, and I sure he wasn’t either.

“I’m sure you know all about what can happen between two soulmates when they meet. I just want to make sure you two are not rushing into anything.”

“No, no. Just getting to know each other right now.”

“Good, because even though you will always have a home here, I do want you to know that one, getting pregnant” _There it is_ “before marriage, is,” she made the face, the disapproving face. “And two, that you can’t dance while pregnant.”

“We’re not planning on that right now.”

“I don’t care if you’re planning or not, you don’t get to decide when you’re pregnant, you’re body does.”

I stood up, ready to make her made just to get out of this conversation. “Right Madame Giry, I’ll-‘

“I’m serious Christine. I know with him as your soulmate, you’ll be fine no matter what happens because he won’t let anything bad happen to you, but I don’t want you to lose your entire carrier because you had one night of fun.” I groaned internally, not want to hear any more of this conversation.  

“Thank you Madame Giry, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll be sending for you both, so keep an ear out.”

I walked out of that room and let out an exasperated sigh, glad that was over, for now at least. I walked to my dressing room, ready to go with Erik and sleep the day off. My feet still hurt, my muscles are sore, I just want sleep.

Heavy footsteps had me speeding up towards my room and hugging the wall. Heavy footsteps usually mean a stage hand was coming, and they’re not my favorite.  However, I was stopped in my tracks when I heard my name called.

I turned around to see Raoul running out me. It was a relief that it was him and not some perv stagehand. 

“Raoul, what a pleasant surprise.” I said with a smile. I truly met what I said when I still wanted to be friends with him. I’m not going to let Erik be the only man in my life. Raoul and I are just going to stay friends.

“I was wondering if you would like to get dinner with me at some point in time. Just as friends to catch up. Meg opened my eyes to some things and I just don’t want to lose my best friend to which I still love, even if it’s different from what I thought.”

“You’ll never lose me Raoul, and I, too, love you.”

“So when’s the best time, I understand that you really don’t have that much free time between being a you know” a parent was the unspoken words, which I’m not, but he doesn’t need to know that “and it not being the end of the season yet.”

“Um, actually, I may have some free time coming up, as long as you don’t mind company.”

“Depends on who it is.”

“Meg’s birthday is coming up, and I want her to have a good time because she’s been down about the whole soulmate thing. She doesn’t think she has one, but I know she does. However, I want her to have one good night before she gives her hand away because that girl is a free spirit and I pity the man that has her.”

“No, I don’t mind at all, she was real nice, so when is the date?”

“In two weeks, her birthday falls on a Saturday, so Friday? The ballet girls usually have a free day the day before Meg’s birthday, so it’s convenient.”

“That’s fine, I’ll make it a date.”

“I’ll make sure Meg knows.” We exchanged goodbyes and went our separate ways. I felt really good getting that off of my chest. I still wanted to be friends with Raoul, I didn’t want the matter of soulmates getting in the way, but I feel that Erik will still get jealous, no matter what I say. He’s just going to have to get it through that head of his that I’m not leaving him for anyone else, but I still do need a life.

I made a quick pit stop to the ballet girl’s room, going to tell Meg the plans. She say me standing in the door way waving her over and so she quickly excused herself from her conversation and jumped over to where I was.  I closed the door when she exited the room and pulled her close so I would project our plans to the entire opera house because I knew the ballet girls would squeeze their way in somehow.

“So you remember the Viscount?”

“Definitely.”

“And you remember what a great best friend I am?”  

“Depends.”

“Well, how would you like to go out the day before your birthday?”

“With the Viscount?”

“And me.”

“I don’t care, I’ll go. Going out with the most attractive Viscount around the day before I find my soulmate, sign me up.”

“That’s settled then.” She pulled me into a hug that could compete with a snakes. I tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Air is important” before she let me go.

“I’m so happy.”

“I can tell.” I paused and smile at her before remembering. “I’m going down, I’ll be back tomorrow.” I said before waving and walking away. I heard her squeal a little before going back into the ballet dorm. 

* * *

 

A dinner with the viscount, huh.

After Christine was running late and didn’t answer when I wrote to her, which we have been using for instant keeping in touch, I got worried and went searching for her. I was already in the main part of the opera house, waiting for her behind the mirror, so there wasn’t a long trek to find her. I heard her before I saw her and I was not happy with who she was talking to.

“Raoul, what a pleasant surprise.” Not what I would call it, but okay.

“I was wondering if you would like to get dinner with me at some point in time.” No. “Just as friends to catch up. Meg opened my eyes to some things and I just don’t want to lose my best friend to which I still love, even if it’s different from what I thought.” Good, so stay away from her.

“You’ll never lose me Raoul, and I, too, love you.” I turned around and left, not listening to what they were saying next.

I knew it was too good to be true, she wouldn’t really ever love me, and especially not when she could have someone like him. I went back to the mirror, not ready to abandon all plans with her, but definitely not going to let her get away with this little stunt. I’m always listening and if she thinks that she can go behind my back and have a little affair with that boy toy, then she is sorely mistaken. I’d rather she just tell me that she’s going around with him instead giving me the heart break of finding out myself.

I was curled in a ball in front of the mirror when she knocked on it. I stood up and hit the switch and turned around before it opened all the way. The second I looked in those pleading eyes I would break, and I knew it. She’s the only one that can break me and I won’t’ let her in.

She was slightly shocked to see that I had already started making my way down through the passage ways, and I heard her foot falls speed up a little before I felt her presence behind me.

I guess she sensed my sour mood because she didn’t say anything the entire trip down through the passage ways or across the lake. It was only when we reached my home did she finally say something.

“I’m going to go out for dinner the day before Meg’s birthday.”

“Is that so,” I said, hanging up my cape, which I always wear around the opera house, up. “With who.” I set the trap, now fall into it Christine.

“Meg,”

“Liar” I roared but still faced my long cape.

“And Raoul.”

A pause.

“Whatever,” I said walking into the kitchen, not looking at her. I wasn’t actually going to make anything, I just stood there, holding onto the sink for support. She grabbed my arm, trying to turn around, but I refused. She sighed exasperated.

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” she paused, waiting for me to say something, but I was resilient. “I just don’t want to have only one friend in life.”

“Christine, I don’t want to be one of those over bearing husbands who won’t let their girl see any other man other than him, but I don’t trust the Viscount.” I slightly regretted my choice of words the second I said them, _husband, my girl?_ But I meant the rest of them.

“He is just my friend, nothing more, plus Meg is going to be there so nothing is going to happen.”

“Then why did you say you love him” I roared, slamming my hand down on the kitchen sink before turning around and finally facing her. She looked a little shocked at the accusation, but I heard her say it.

“So you were listening in, I thought I felt you there.”

“Why did you say you loved him?” I repeated.

“Because I do,” she whispered back. I stormed off into the living room but didn’t quite make it to the table as she stopped me with her words. “But only as a friend. Erik you have to trust me, I won’t leave you.”

Guilt hit me like brick, no like an entire brick house. I didn’t trust her, I just jumped to my own conclusions, completely ignoring her side of the story. I sighed and slowly made my way to the one seater and plopped down, sticking my head in my hands. She walked over and shocked me as she started rubbing my back in comfort.

It’s a new feeling and shocked me a little. I’ve never been given comfort, only pain and hate. It was nice.

We sat like this for a while so I could cool down. It was nice, calm, and peaceful. There was not a care in my world, I will never get used to this feeling. It felt like, just for a second, that we were normal. We weren’t under an opera house, listening the water dripping in the distance, keeping tempo to the song of the world. But instead we were in a cottage, the fire cracking, the wind blowing the trees around outside our home, but it didn’t matter because we were safe.

I broke out of my trance and sat up. She immediately stopped rubbing my back, which I was a little sad for, but not too worried because I could tell this was going to happen more in the future, maybe not when I just freaked out at her, but when something bad happened.

“You can go with him, as long as Meg sits in between you both.” She laughed, making everything bad go away.

“There’s three of us, there’s no such thing as sitting in between.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, I had more time than I thought because it's the last week of school, but since they're collecting the tablets on Thursday, I figured that I'd post it tonight, don't think that you guys would complain that I posted early.  
> Since this was the slightest bit rushed, there's probably more mistakes than usual, so if you see any, feel free to tell me.


	19. Chapter 19

The days passed, and soon it was the day of the dinner. I picked something nice out from what Erik bought me my first day here. It was a simple dress, yet elegant at the same time. I wasn’t quite sure where Raoul was taking us, he was being quite vague about the location, so I decided to wear something in between. Not to fancy, not too casual. Erik liked it too, he was blushing and staring, even from under his mask, I could tell. It was a low cut dress, I did that just to tease him.

We’ve gotten closer through time spent together, and though some things are still a little tense at times, we’ve somehow worked through it. There have been fleeting touches, long stares while the other isn’t looking. Catching him staring and giggling at him as he snaps his head away in shame. We’ve argued, mostly about music. He just has a different taste than me. He also still critiques my singing like he used to, making me feel like a child again, and starting arguments.

I think the ongoing argument though, is his mask. He loves it, wears it whenever he can. I, on the other hand, hate it. I don’t like him covering up his face, I want to see the real Erik. When I asked the first time, he was shocked, and I used that moment while he was trapped in his daze to take the mask off him. I smiled when I saw the distortion, something he never thought would happen. It is ugly, I cannot lie, but it’s what makes him, him, and what connects him to me. I also kissed his cheek, and I thought I hurt him when he quickly pulled himself away. What’s under the mask is probably sensitive because it doesn’t see the light of day at all, so it hurting was my go-to answer, but he assured me that it didn’t hurt. He said it was sensitive, and it felt weird for me to kiss him there, but a good weird. From that moment on, I have been trying to get him to wear his mask less so I could kiss his face more.

We haven’t proper kissed yet, but I feel like it’s coming, he just has to open his barriers the slightest bit more, and then I know we’ll be the perfect couple. But for right now, I have to stick with those light caress and the tingle his fingerprint leave on me.

Right before I stepped out from behind the mirror, I stuck a slip in to cover my cleavage, knowing full well I was never going to wear something that low out in public.

“Have fun” he said, before kissing my cheek. We’ve been making a lot of improvement, “but not too much fun,” the whispers tingled my ear.

The mirror began to open, and I stepped out, smiling the whole time. A knock sounded at the door and I pulled my gaze away from him to go answer it.

Standing at my door was the Viscount, wearing his normal opera viewing attire, and Meg on his arm, looking like Cinderella on the night of the ball.

“You ready?” Meg practically squealed.

I didn’t take Raoul’s arm when he offered it to me, knowing Erik was still watching. It was a miracle he was even letting me out with Raoul. It was probably because he thought he was being too overbearing or maybe because Meg was there. Truly, if it had been anyone else, any other proper man, he might of let me go in a heartbeat. But my history with Raoul is what scares him.

I hopped into the carriage, also without assistance, and sat opposite of Raoul and Meg. They seemed to be getting alone well which makes me think this is going to be more me third wheeling.

The place we pulled up to was absolutely magnificent. I felt underdressed and I could see that Meg looked uncomfortable also. Meg and I were thinking the same thing, I could tell, What kind of place is this?

“Don’t worry ladies, I’ll be paying.” Raoul laughed like money was nothing to him, which I guess to him, it wasn’t. We walked in, and I instantly felt out of place. Raoul walked us to a table in the back of the restaurant nodding to some people as we passed and sat down. I sat down next to Meg with a chair in between me and Raoul.

The beginning of dinner went great, no bumps at all. Raoul told stories of when I played with him. Meg told stories of when I played with her. The food was delicious, everything was comfortable, it was a nice place.

“At some point,  felt like I was being watched by the one and only, but he promised me he would stay away unless I didn’t want him to. However, it was when Meg went to the bathroom that things started to go downhill.

“This is fun, isn’t it? Really brings me back to the old days.” Raoul started, I already didn’t like where this was going.

“Yes, we should really do this again, maybe when I’m not so busy.”

“You know Christine, I was thinking, and I still love you.” Oh no. Seeing the look on my face, he continued. “I know you don’t have a child.”

“You’ve been stalking me?”

“I’ve been standing outside the Opera house at night, I’ve tried all possible exits, and you’ve not come out of one.”

“That’s creepy.” I was honestly shocked.

“I don’t want to be with my soulmate, I want to be with you,” I took a pen out and started writing.

“Well, I want to be with mine.” I was stalling, but it was true, I wanted to be with Erik. “You’ll want to be with yours too, once you meet her. Trust me.” I stood up and placed the note on the table for Meg to read and understand.

“Wait, Christine,” Raoul said, trying to stop me.

“No Raoul, clear your head, you’ve obviously drunken too much, then we can finish this conversation.” I turned and walked right out the door and into the stark black carriage with the white horse. The second I sat down, it jolted off and towards the opera house. I laid my head down on the black figure's shoulder. Sighing a breath of relief when he ran his fingers through it.

* * *

I carried Christine bridal style through the back entrance of my house. She fell asleep on the ride home, and as tempting as it was to wake her so she could walk the long path back, I didn’t because she just looked so peaceful sleeping there. I didn’t even want to get up in fear of waking her because her head was rested on my shoulder and my fingers were tangled in her hair.

I placed her on the bed and stretched my back, sore from carrying her. The clothes she wore didn’t look comfortable, and I know the corset is tight, but I didn’t dare touch her. Instead, I just left the room and shut the curtain behind me.

I’ll admit, I was there listening to their entire conversation. I heard what the boy said, and I wasn’t happy. I could kill the boy, she will never see him again, but I can’t because he mean something to her. She should have listened to me when I said I don’t trust him, and yet, I wanted her to be free, I don’t want her to be cooped up down here like me. I truly want her to live life to its fullest, just not around him.  

I was in my music room, not playing, but thinking. Thinking of where to take Don Juan Triumphant when Christine walk it. It’s about twelve, maybe one in the morning, so I was shocked to see her awake and changed into her nightgown. I thought she would have slept through the night, not for an hour.

“New rule, if I fall asleep in my corset, wake me up, don’t let me sleep in this rib trap ever again, okay?” She groaned.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, barely listening and continuing on writing down ideas. She sat down next to me and put her head on my shoulder as I wrote down one last idea for the ending.

“How was your dinner?” I asked, folding the paper and putting it down next to me. I looked at the top of her head, then as she looked up, her arm came with those beautiful eyes, and I knew was she was asking.

Christine, recently, has been making me go around the house without my mask on. She doesn’t cover her scars, which I gave her, either. I hate it because it reminds me of why I can’t be a real person. Someone normal for her that she can walk around the park, her arm folded through mine and a big smile on her face. She'll laugh at a joke I told, and everyone around us will just think we're a normal couple, they won’t even blink an eye or push their children away because I’m wearing a mask. They won’t laugh or scream at what’s underneath it either, they’ll just ignore me like I’m normal like them.

“I know you were there Erik.” She says calmly as she places the mask beside her.

“And lucky for you because you couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“He was making me uncomfortable.” she defended herself.

“Huh, thought you would think that with me.”

“Why would I be uncomfortable around you?”

“I don’t know,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my words, “maybe because I’m the Phantom, the Masked Marauder that haunts and terrorizes this opera house.”

“You’re also my soulmate, and I won’t leave you for anyone.” She looked into my eyes, telling me she was serious.

“Tell me, Christine, why didn’t you say yes to him?”

“Because I want to be with you, Erik.”

“Yet, he was willing to forget his soulmate and run away with you. Why is that?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” She now stood in front of me, hands on her hips. I could tell she was starting to get mad, yet I was still trying to stay calm.

“Why is that Christine?” I asked sternly.

“Because he loves me. There, are you happy now?”

“And do you love him?” I knew the answer to this question.

“Yes, but only as a friend.”

“Right, and do you love me?” A pause. She looked at me with pain in her eyes, but I wasn’t stopping now. “So why didn’t you go with him?”

“Because he’s not my Soulmate! I was made to love you, made for you, just as you were for me.”

“Yet, you love him, and not me.” This conversation was as painful for her as it was for me.

“I will love you, I just don’t know who you are yet.” I wasn’t listening to her.

“So wouldn’t the obvious solution be to go with him. Soulmates can just be friends, you can be with someone else.” She was mad now, but so was I.

“Yes, and how well did that work out for your parents.?” Regret. The second those words came out, her hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Erik, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it.” She said through her hands.

“I was always destined to be alone, I just didn’t think I would get so close to a relationship.” Then I walked away.

I must say, the only flaw in this house is the lack of doors. Before I didn’t feel the need for any, it was just me, but I wish I had thought ahead. I could hear her wailing echoing through the house, and it was hard to ignore. Soon her sobs turned to sniffled, then I heard the water begin moving.

The more she came down here, the more she learned the path, I guess that was my fault, but now she’s gone.

My face was wet. I didn’t even notice I was crying until a drop his Christine’s bed sheets. I was in a daze, but I do remember falling asleep with Christine’s smell all around me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUMMER!!! Well for me at least. I've been writing these next couple of chapters in my notebook that I have left over from school, and I guess it's because my hand starts cramping up, or I don't feel like erasing it all to add another paragraph, but I'm just not reaching this word limit I set for myself. However, with a bit of adjustments, I made it. I also have like the next four chapters written out because I didn't do like anything in school except for finals in one class, so I just wrote, and due to the weird scheduling of my school, I only have five periods a day and three were easy classes that I could write through, and one was lunch. Also, since I'm going on vacation next week with my dad (Who is extremely strict) I'm going to try my hardest and post, but there will probably be a lot of spelling mistakes because I'll be posting from my tablet, and I have typed anything up yet, so sorry in advance.  
> TLDR: No school, lots of writing may be late posting next week  
> If there are any mistakes, please feel free to comment.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has some sensitive topics in it about self-harm, if you don't want to read it, I'm going to write a little summary about those parts at the bottom about what happened in the chapter. Also, it's mainly just in the beginning so if you want to read the end part, I'll put little notes when it's mentioned and when it isn't. They'll be in parenthesizes before that 'scene' I guess you could call them.  
> Also this chapter may be a little confusing to read, but bold is Erik, italicized is Christine, and neither is no one or both of them.

_ Two weeks, three hours, and forty-seven minutes since I last talked to Erik, and the pain is still there. Madame Giry found me first, a blessing in itself really.  _

 

**Two weeks, three hours, and forty-seven minutes since I last talked to Christine, and I’m going insane. The Daroga found me first, a blessing in itself really.**

 

_ *** _

Two weeks, and forty-seven minutes earlier…

 

_ I had made it back to my room. I just sat on my bed, not knowing what to do. I cried myself dry on my way back. There wasn’t a single tear for me to spare. My throat kinda hurt from crying so loudly.  _

 

**I woke up, still in Christine’s room. Not much time at all has passed. There is a loneliness in my heart again, one I hadn’t felt in a long time. I just sat on the bed, doing nothing, thinking nothing just sitting.**

 

_ He doesn’t want me. Why would he? _

**She doesn’t want me. Why would she?**

_ It’s obvious he doesn't love me as much as I thought he did. _

**It obvious she doesn’t love me at all.**

_ I shouldn’t have said what I did. _

**I shouldn’t have left her.**

It’s all my fault this has happened.

We could have worked it out. 

But I had to go and blow my lid. 

_ Maybe he’s right _

**Maybe she’s right**

_ But I still won’t go with Raoul  _

**But she’s not going with Raoul, despite what I said** _.  _

_ Without him, though, there’s nothing left for me.  _

**Without her, there’s nothing left for me.**

But music. 

_ But that reminds me too much of him.  _

**But that reminds me too much of her.**

So then what else is there to do without-

 

_ I turned the mask over in my hands, I took it with me when I left, I didn’t even know that I did it at the time. When I sat down, I just noticed it was there, I barely even remember what happened so I guess I picked it up. I looked up as a knock sounded at the door, then without permission, Madame Giry walked in, worry painted across her face.  _

 

**She took my mask. How absolutely rude, take my heart, my mask, probably all of my inspiration and want to do anything. Now I’m just nothing. I have a spare, but it’s so uncomfortable and doesn’t properly fit my face. The one she took was paper mache, and brilliantly made, might I add. It perfectly fit the contours of my face and didn’t rub the sensitive skin underneath. It even looked natural. Well, as natural as a paper mache mask can look when it’s barely touching the skin underneath. The other mask I have is just plastic and makes me sweat like a pig making the skin underneath uncomfortable and rashey and just making me all around miserable. Not something this opera house wants right now.**

**I looked up as I heard footsteps, then Nadir walked into the room, pity written across his face.**

**“I don’t want your pity, Daroga, I want peace,” I said, looking away from him. He truly has the worst timing in everything. I know he’s here because of the fight, but that’s exactly the reason I don’t want to deal with him right now.**

**“If that was true Erik, that fight wouldn't have sounded throughout the entire Opera House.”**

**“Why are you even here? I don’t remember inviting you.”**

**“Someone came to me. According to him, his friend was disappearing without a trace or an explanation.” Someone, way to keep Raoul secret, does that boy ever give up?**

**“Well, go tell trust fund that his precious little Bride has returned, and most likely, for good.” He paused before speaking, thinking through his words carefully.**

**“Did she see your face?” but apparently not to carefully.**

**“She’s seen my face before, in fact, She seems to adore my face,” I said, starting to get defensive about it. I’m still not in a very good mood, and I feel that warranted. “Tell me Nadir, why is that always your explanation for everything that goes wrong in my life?”**

**“Erik, what did you do to her?” He asked, sadness and worry laced through his voice.  “It sounded like you caused her a great amount of pain.” Ah, his pretentious way of speaking, it gets very annoying at times like this.**

**“Just because I’m not wailing like a baby, does mean I’m not in pain either.”**

**“It doesn’t Erik if you got in a fight as bad as it sounded, you just both need time to cool off, then everything will return as normal.”**

 

_ “Christine, what’s wrong? I’m pretty sure the entire Opera House heard your argument with him.” Madame Giry pestered. She didn’t really, but I’m not in the mood and so it sounds like pestering.  _

_ “Nothing Madame Giry, I’m fine.” I lied, I don’t want to talk about it, at least not right now. _

_ “You’re not fine, what did Erik do?” _

_ “It wasn’t his fault.” I snapped.  _

_ “Are you sure?” no. _

_ “It was as much his as it was mine.” _

_ “Christine, each couple has their fights, you just each need time to cool off okay? Find out what went wrong and think of the others point of view on it, then went the time is right, everything will be fine.” Wise as always that woman is.  _

 

_ *** _

Two weeks and thirty minutes later. 

(Mentions)

_ I’ve cooled down, at least I think I did. I used some pretty unconventional ways to do so, yet with each cut I made, two appeared. It was quite strange, but I guess that’s what I get.  _

_ Ballet was another way to get me to cool. However, now my feet hurt, and bad too. Sleeping has been troubling for me, all that was on my mind was ‘will that mirror ever open?’ It hasn’t yet, so here I sit, with a pen in my hand, hovering over my torn up wrist.  _

_ Some of those scars were there before these past two weeks. It was saddening when I first saw them, and I wanted to find out the story behind them, the story behind all of his scars, but that’ll never happen now. I don’t want to give up hope, but the more time passes, the less hope I feel. I felt other cuts appear while I was in a daze. Yet none of them hurt more than the pain in my heart.  _

_ ‘Please Come Back’ I wrote. Something simple I’m hoping he’ll see.  _

(Still mentions)

**I felt a tingle on my wrist. She was writing to me, that’s the only time I get that feeling. I ignored it, not wanting to look at the mistakes I’ve made on my wrist. The last time I did this was when I caged, being laughed at.**

**It was late at night and there was broken glass near me. Cutting myself was like my own personal escape, as weird as that sounds. Then I actually escaped, and that freedom was so much better. I regretted doing it, but it’s the only way I know how to cope with this loneliness.**

**The one question that rose to my mind when I felt the tingle is ‘why is she up this late.’ She should be asleep, she has practice in the morning and she shouldn’t waste any more time on me. She was thinking about me, no doubt, or else she wouldn’t have taken her time to write to me. I haven’t stopped thinking about her.**

**I still watch her, not in a creepy way, she knows I’m doing it. Every time I get near her, she changes. Her posture, her mood, though, her mood doesn’t change much, she goes from being sad a depressed to being sad, depressed, and not speaking. At times when she doesn’t know I’m there like when she’s in the middle of a routine run through when Madame Giry is watching their every mood, then is the only time her old self shines through. I’ve noticed that over the years, she can always clear her mind of everything troubling her when she’s dancing or up on that stage singing like she should be.**

**Christine's depressed too, I can tell. She’s not her happy normal self. I just wish she would stop thinking about me, then her pain would stop.**

**Except, I don’t. I wish she would come back to me. Then it hit me, what if she’s cutting it off with me, saying she was finally done, done with waiting, done with my face and mysteries I have hidden underneath. That thought made me stop what I was doing and pull up my shirt sleeve. I cringed at what I saw.**

**I really don’t remember running the knife across my wrist that many times.**

**‘Please Come Back’ was written in beautiful writing.**

(No more mention)

_ Meg found her soulmate, turns out it was Raoul. He feels bad about everything he’s said and has admitted I was right. That he met his soulmate and now he wouldn’t leave her for anything, that’ll show him that women are always right. However, Meg doesn’t know half of what he said, so she’s kind of out of the line, and I feel bad, but I’m not going to tell her. That’s all of Raoul.  _

_ Apparently, it was really cute, how it happened. A little after she came out from the bathroom, she saw the note that said I’d left, but it was almost five after twelve; when she was born, and so she almost had her soulmate. Meg asked if Raoul had a pen and when she received one, she drew a little heart on the inside of her wrist. Then, once five after twelve hit, he felt an itch on his arm, and when he was scratching at it something caught his eye. So, when he looked, the little heart was there.  _

_ I’m trying to be happy or them, my two best friends, destined for each other, but it’s been so hard after what’s happened with my soulmate. Those two have been inseparable and lovey-dovey. Now I know how Meg felt. Though I have to say, I think it’s more painful for me because I actually had my soulmate before.  _

_ I walked into my room after a long ballet practice to see a note on my dresser. My heart skipped a beat, for I thought it was from Erik. However, upon noting the seal, I recognized it as from the Opera House. The seal was broken, though, which means Erik was here and going through my mail.  _

_ I flipped the envelope open and pulled the letter out and began to read it.  _

 

**There’s a letter on her desk. Who in the world is writing my soulmate a letter? I need to calm down, it’s probably nothing. Letters are the main form of communication aside from face to face conversation. However, it could be the most idiotic viscount in Paris. At that thought, I walked up to her vanity and picked up the letter. The seal was from the Opera House, which sent an instant shock of relief through me. I popped the seal and pulled the letter out, reading it.**

 

Dear to whom this may apply, 

 

We, at the Opera Populaire, are proud to announce that we will be hosting a masquerade ball. This is open to all workers of the Opera House, all members, and the ones that are most important to keeping this Opera House running, our patrons. You may bring a plus one and masks are required. There will be complimentary food and refreshments. Music will also be there for your enjoyment. Doors will open around 20 hundred. Please attend this wonderful party put together to let us managers show our gratitude to you all. 

                       Sincerely, 

                           Monsieur Richard

                           Monsieur MonChirmin

 

**_A masquerade ball, huh? Time to get busy._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She used ballet as an escape and now she’s tired all the time and can’t get Erik off her mind no matter how hard she’s tried. She wrote a little note on her wrist that said please come back to try and get his attention and to get him to come back to her because it’s been two weeks pass. 
> 
> Erik felt the tingle on his wrist that meant Christine was writing to him. Erik, tells about his time in the gypsies cage. How alone he was and how he would resort to that just to escape, but when he really escaped, he regretted doing it.  
> (I’m pretty much going to write Eriks part out because it’s longer and it’s late at night and doesn’t mention anything.)  
> **The one question that rose to my mind when I felt the tingle is ‘why is she up this late.’ She should be asleep, she has practice in the morning and she shouldn’t waste any more time on me. She was thinking about me, no doubt, or else she wouldn’t have taken her time to write to me. I haven’t stopped thinking about her.  
> I still watch her, not in a creepy way, she knows I’m doing it. Every time I get near her, she changes. Her posture, her mood, though, her mood doesn’t change much, she goes from being sad a depressed to being sad, depressed, and not speaking. At times when she doesn’t know I’m there like when she’s in the middle of a routine run through when Madame Giry is watching their every mood, then is the only time her old self shines through. I’ve noticed that over the years, she can always clear her mind of everything troubling her when she’s dancing or up on that stage singing like she should be.  
> Christine's depressed too, I can tell. She’s not her happy normal self. I just wish she would stop thinking about me, then her pain would stop.  
> Except, I don’t. I wish she would come back to me. Then it hit me, what if she’s cutting it off with me, saying she was finally done, done with waiting, done with my face and mysteries I have hidden underneath. That thought made me stop what I was doing and pull up my shirt sleeve. I cringed at what I saw.**  
> Erik read the note. 
> 
>  
> 
> I didn't really want to add any sensitive topics in here, but I felt like Erik would do it and since they have a strong connection, *Spoiler alert* they'd both do it. I know how hard it can be dealing with it, but try hard to stop because like Erik said, he regrets having done it.


	21. Chapter 21

“Did you hear about the masquerade ball?” Meg screeched when I walked to her for ballet practice. She was stretching on the pole and I was trying to play it off like I wasn’t twenty minutes late to practice.   
It’s been hard, trying to put on makeup to cover my face because every time I stare at it, I see him and start crying, smearing the makeup. A terrible cycle really.   
“Yes Meg, we all got the letter.”  
“So you’re going, great. We have to find nice-”   
“I’m not going to the ball Megs.” I cut her off.   
“I really just not in the mood.”  
“Christine, he’ll come back to you, you just have to give him time.”  
“I’ve given him time Meg, you don’t understand, he is the most stubborn person I know.”  
“And you are the most determined I know, go to him.”   
“I can’t Meg i-” I looked around to see if anyone was listening. “I don’t know how the mirror works.”  
“What do you mean you don’t know how it works, you’ve gone down there every day, it’s a door open it,” Meg exclaimed.   
“It’s not a door, it’s a contraption. Everything he builds is intricate, and beautiful, yet so complicated.” I stared off.   
“There it is, that look. Even after all he’s done,”  
“He’s done nothing,” I interrupted her, but she didn’t listen.   
“You still love him.” That made me freeze. I never thought of it like that. Is that what this pain in my chest is? Why does it always come to Meg for my realizations?  
“You’re right Megs,”   
“Like always,” She stood triumphantly, like she owned the world, “Wait, what am I right about?”  
“I do love him.”  
“Hold on, you didn’t already know that? Christine, even I knew that every time you talk about him you get this gleam in your eyes that most soulmates couldn’t even dream of having. The bond you two have is strong, special, one of the rarest kinds. You can’t give that up just because he shut you out, you don’t pass up something like that, you fight for it.”  
“God Megs, I hate it when you’re right.” Madame Giry walked into the room and I saw as she looked over towards me, a look of pity in her eyes. I hated it. I don’t want her pity, I want Erik back.   
Wow, I sound like a child, whatever I need a plan.

Four hours of ballet later, and I don’t have a single idea of what to do. Meg came up with nothing also.   
“I’m sure we’ll come up with something Christine, we can’t give up hope now.” We continued walking so we could get out of these uncomfortable costumes before we have to get back in them for after lunch practice. It’s getting close to opening night, which is actually the night of the ball, probably the reason why Madame Giry is pushing for perfection. It’s going to be one of the biggest nights, or at least that’s what the managers are hoping for. A big stunt for money, they’re huge on the money.   
Erik doesn’t like that too much, at first, they thought the phantom thing was just a joke and so they didn’t get the money ready. Not a good move on their part. Eventually, he got his money.   
There I am again, thinking about him. I just can’t stop.   
“Christine, are you ever going to open that door or are we going to stand here all day while you think about your soulmate?” Meg snapped, breaking me out of my trance.   
“Sorry,” I opened the door and walked in, followed by Meg. The instant I stepped into the room, I felt his presence.   
I turned to look at Meg, giving her a silent look to no longer talk about it. Truly, I don’t know if he’s here, the feeling I get, though, I don’t think is related to my Soulmark. We get each other's scars, we can’t sense when each other are around. It’s probably just easy since I’ve been doing it for so long. However, when Raoul burst into the room, he didn’t know what the look meant.   
“So I’ve got some ideas about how you can get your soulmate back.” Really?   
“That’s great Raoul, just not right now,” I said.   
“No, it’s a great plan listen to this, at the ball-”  
“Raoul,” Meg exclaimed, instantly shutting him up. “Not now,” Meg added before nodding towards the mirror. Their soulmate mark is that they have a mind connection.

* * *

 

I wish she wouldn’t have stopped him. I want to know what he was thinking. Christine has been writing to me, a lot, and it’s a pain to ignore her, but it’s still a pain to answer. But to know she’s working on a plan to get me back, I feel so bad. I’ve been pushing her away, think she’ll go with Raoul, but now he’s got his girl like the perfect person he was always destined to be.   
Tall, blonde, blue eyes, rich, probably perfect in all ways. I can be perfect in all ways but one, my face. I bet he’s too perfect in all ways but one, but his is a little lower.   
No, I can’t bash the poor boy, even if I do hate him, his time to fight with little Giry will come.   
I watched as Christine stared writing on her forearm, then I felt the tingling going through my arm. I pulled the sleeve up to read what she wrote.   
‘You can come out, I know you’re here’. Like that was going to work. I, unlike her, have the perfect plan and am not jeopardizing it because of guilt. Nothing can break me except or that puppy look she gives me to get what she wants.   
She has used the look on me from time to time, knowing that it’s my weakness and that she just looks too cute and innocent for me to say no. That’s why, when she stood up and started making her way to the mirror, I turned around. If I don’t look, it can’t break me.   
A knock on the mirror almost had me turning around, but I stood my ground.   
“Erik, please” she whispered. I took my pen out and wrote: ‘Not until I get my hat back’ on my arm.   
Hopefully, this won’t turn her away or else the plan won’t work, and I need the plan to work. I don’t think I’m mad at her anymore, I don’t think I ever truly was. Disappointed, yes, sad., definitely, but never really mad. She was just in a fury and I the one who put her there. I pushed her too far and made her speak before she thought. The Daroga says that women do that when they’re particularly angry, and you should never push a woman to that point. If you do, you’re as good as dead. It’s a miracle I’m still living, or maybe Nadir’s soulmate is just extra vicious, she is an independent woman., after all.   
‘I’m not giving the mask back before you talk to me. For all I know, I give the mask back, you don’t come out then I’ll have nothing to remember you by.’ Alright, she has a point there, but still, I am sticking to my plan.   
However, I still need to figure out a way to not have her leave me, I need some way to entice her to stay until the ball. That is, of course, that she allows me to be with her again. That’s when my grand plan takes place, the ball. Predictable, I know, but she and her posse haven’t figured out anything close other than what Raoul has just said.   
“Christine,” little Giry said I turned around to see Meg turning Christine around.   
“Meg’s right Christine, you should.”  
Christine and I stared over at Raoul in complete confusion, because all the little Giry said was Christine’s name.   
“I haven’t said anything yet hun.” Raoul flinched back from the fierceness, whereas I flinched back from the name. How are they already at that point, where they’re that comfortable around each other? Christine and I weren’t even close to that point as a couple. I guess we did move extraordinarily slow, my fault. I wonder what Christine's name for me would be, some unoriginal, or something that’s just for me. Well, unless this plan works, we’ll never know. I turned around and walked back down to my house, getting ready to start moving my plan from paper to material.   
This part is the easy part. I mean, I’m multi-talented, of course, it’s easy for me. The question is, can I do it in a timely matter and still get complete perfection that it needs. The ball is in a week and I want it to be a marvelous reunion and a large ‘I’m sorry’ painted across it, metaphorically, of course. I want to take these past threeish weeks back, I want her back. I don’t want to push her away from me any more than I already have. It’s confusing, I know, but as a perfectionist, I didn’t want to open the mirror with a cloud of fog behind me, singing some piece I wrote and surprise her like that. I don’t want something so magical, but that’s so overdone. By that I mean it pretty much happened the first time I brought her down to my house.   
I live in an opera house, of course, I’m that dramatic. She grew up being taught by me, I know she liked it though, and I’m still hoping she’ll like this.

* * *

 

It’s been one week since I had that talk with Erik, and I’m still wondering why he won’t just come out. It’s been three weeks, he can’t possibly still be mad at me. I’ve cooled down, and so can he. Though we still haven’t come up with something, anything that will bring me back to my Soulmate. I feel so lost without him, I didn’t even have him for long. We weren’t even that close, but I want to become closer. I don’t want to be alone My whole life, especially when he lives so close, but yet so far.  
Erik would always come and get me, meaning he opened the mirror from his side, and I know there’s a small lever on the other side. Plus I’ve seen him open the door from my side, but I still haven’t figured it out yet. I know my way down, I just don’t know my way in. If I did, this whole situation would have been cleaned up a while ago. I’ve spent numerous hours looking and pushing and prodding at the mirror, trying to figure out what it’s release mechanism is, but to no avail.   
I sighed, tired from practice, tired in general, as I turned the key to open my door. The ball is tomorrow which means so is opening night for the Opera, and they are pushing us hard to be great. Then I have to repeat the entire thing again and again for the next two weeks.   
I just want some escape. That’s what Erik was.   
I opened the door and was instantly shocked at what I saw.   
At first, I thought there was a person in my for. A tall figure stood in the middle of my room, but as I looked closer, I noticed it was simply a mannequin, yet on the mannequin was a dress like no other, and it looked to be just my size. As I walked closer to it, I saw a note folded over the belt rope. I picked it up and read what it said.

My dearest Christine,   
The masquerade ball is coming soon, I hope you weren’t planning on skipping.   
Wear the dress, it should be just your size.   
Erik.   
P.S. If it’s not, I can take it in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rushed Chapter. Weeks go a lot fast when you don't have school to write your chapters during.


	22. Chapter 22

The dress was stunning and looked to be just my size. It was similar to a Victorian style dress, it was tight at the top with an appropriate neckline but flared out around the waist.  The dress looked like it had a red coat over top of the black that only connected for one button, but when I looked closer, I noticed both were connected The black at the chest was frilled, but at the waist, looked to be layered. There was also a hood on the back that looked like it would surround my head loosely. Yet to top it all of, clinging to the mannequin's face was a mask. It was very clear to me that the mask was shaped after that of the bone structure in the face. 

I was shocked at the great craftsmanship put into making this. It looked to be custom made, and knowing Erik, it was most likely custom made by him. I must say, I was a little jealous that my soulmates sewing skills were better than mine by a mile. I am the woman. I’m supposed to sit down and sew my husbands torn up clothes while he rests from a long day at work. Although he doesn’t really have long days at work, I do, so maybe it’s better, that way he can sew up my clothes. Though no sewing competition will be happening anytime soon if he doesn’t get over himself and come out of the mirror. However, I feel I’m just going to have to trust him, but that didn’t stop me from writing to him to get something out of him. 

_ It’s a stunning dress.  _

_ It is, isn’t it?  _ (ha, I got something out of him)

_ I would love to meet who made it, to congratulate him on such a job well done.  _

_ I will make sure to pass that on.  _ (wow, more than usual)

_ A second passed without either writing before he continued on.  _

_ Try it on, make sure it fits.  _ (so he is here)

_ I think I may need some help getting into it.  _

_I think you’ll be fine._ (bastard)

I huffed and walked around the dress, finding that the string that ties in the front was actually the string that helped keep it up. A smart bastard apparently. 

I untied the string and watched the dress fall down the mannequin before lifting it again and bringing it with me behind the privacy barrier. I stepped out of my practice clothes and into the dress, noticing how it slotted on to my body perfectly. I tied it tight in the front before walking out to look at it in the mirror. Since the mannequin had no arms, I didn’t notice it, but as I looked, the sleeves came down to my elbow with red silk, they covered my shoulders before the fabric dropped down to a heart neckline, perfectly accenting my boobs. In fact, all of my curves looked perfect, not like the ones I’ve stared at into the mirror and hated, but the ones I’ve dreamed of having. With the dress, you couldn’t tell I had a  larger stomach, or that I didn’t have a thigh gap like you can tell in my ballet costumes, I looked like a model. I turned back to the mannequin and pulled the mask off its head and put it on to my face. It covered most my face, coming down from my forehead to cover my nose and cheekbones before giving away for my mouth. It practically perfectly molded to my facial structure. I want to know how he got my sizes perfect. I don’t remember him measuring me, and even still if he did, there’s no way it could fit as perfect as this does. Also, my face, there’s no possible way he could get this right. Sure it’s not hugging my every feature, but it’s pretty darn close, and it also covers all of the scars on my face. Well, I guess for him that part isn't that hard, for he has the same scars as me on his face.

Yet as beautiful as the dress was, I still was unsure about going to the ball. For all, I know this is all just a ploy to make me look like a fool. I can already see the headlines forming.

Christine Daee, hidden star, lady of the hour, hugs the wall at the at the masquerade ball. It would be the most embarrassing thing and wasn't going with Raoul, or Jammes with Ashley, or any of my other friends with someone, be it their soulmate or not, I'd probably go with one of them. But I‘m not close with many of the other girls. I mainly spent a lot of my time when I should have been making friends, practicing and learning how to sing with Erik. 

_ You look gorgeous in that.  _

_ I feel like it’s an insult if you don’t tell me face to face.  _

_ You look hesitant, what’s wrong? _

_I just said it’s an insult, you insulted me._ (Great comeback, Christine, real mature.)

I was scared out of my wits when the door opened and Meg burst in. She looked as shocked as I felt before she took everything in and settled. 

“What are you wearing?” Meg asked as she slowly walked towards me. I didn’t really have an answer so I just set my shoulders and said: “A dress”

“Well, I can see that. It’s just that that’s a very masquerade looking dress, not to mention the mask.”

“Oh, uh, change of plans, I’m going to the ball,” I said turning to the mirror and taking the mask off, “Apparently.” I turned back around but was stopped by her startled gasp. 

“What, Meg, what is it,” I turned back towards the mirror, half expecting Erik to be standing there, but then chastised myself upon remembering that the mirror opens out and it would have hit me. 

“Your face,” oh. 

Wait, what?

* * *

I chuckled at Christine’s answer. Even she knows it wasn’t a good one judging by the look on her face. However, if I’m being honest, it’s taking a lot of willpower to just look at her face. I knew I was an expert costume designer, but I didn’t know just how good. I’ve accentuated every one of her curves and made her already perfect body look even more perfect. There isn’t a flaw on her, well at least one that is hers. If we’re being fair there are flaws on her, but only the things that I’ve given her, her face, all of those scars. She didn’t really add much to my collection, just cute little birthmarks that look faded on me, but I’m sure they make her look even more adorable. However, I’ll probably never be able to see them. Soulmate or not, who would want to lie with me. Not someone so perfect. Her personality, her body. 

Just two days. That’s all I need to wait. I can’t just drop the plan now, it’s good. That’s what I keep telling myself when I saw Christine in her dress. She looked so gorgeous. Everything else of significance in that moment went out the window, and I just wanted to open the mirror and sweep her into my arms. 

I had to walk away from her before I got ahead of myself. As I was walking down the hallway, I heard Madame Giry’s daughter walk into the room, but I was focused on other things.

This plan isn’t just to get Christine back, there are other significances to it that is so much bigger and more important to our future. I started making my way to the new dressing rooms, opposite of where the ballet girls are. When the renovated, and after I switched the floor plan out with one so I could still get around, they moved all of the more ‘important’ people to the new rooms. That meant when La Carlotta became Prima Donna, she was moved to the nicer rooms, while all of the chorus and ballet members were stuck with the older ones. 

I felt in my breast pocket to make sure the mixture is still there before pulling it out as I rounded the corner. Upon reaching her room, I made sure it was empty before entering. I pushed the painting and kept a keen ear out for any approaching footsteps. An evil Cheshire grin spread across my face as I noticed a glass of water sitting next to her bed. This plan was working out perfectly. A satisfying pop resonated in the room and I poured the mixture into the glass and watched out it disappeared. 

The mixture was simple, just a little bit of spit from a sickly homeless man. It wasn’t that hard to find, I simply just went into the alley behind the Opera house and there was a man waiting there already like he knew what I wanted. Though it did take a little sneaking around to make sure he was sick, which he was, and a little persuasion. That took a little time, but nothing twenty franks couldn’t buy. It was like my own little black market. Homeless man’s contaminated spit for twenty franks, a fair-trade off I think. She’ll drink the glass of water tonight, become sick tomorrow, giving Christine enough time to learn the staging, because I had already taught her the music when I first found out that they would be doing this, and the Christine is the star of what is supposed to be one of the bigger nights. 

It’s foolproof, Carlotta won’t perform if she’s not feeling pitch perfect, so truly it’s a miracle she ever performs. 

But this was the plan all along, not only to get Christine back but to make sure she’s in the spotlight, again, like she’s supposed to be. Where she was destined to be. Also, I want her to be the lead in my Opera because if she becomes known now when they see her name in my Opera they’ll want to come to see it. 

A little selfish, I know, but I’m killing three birds with one stone. Christine is Prima Donna, My opera debuts, and I get Christine back. That is of course if she wants me back, and I’ve been making her wait so long, I’d honestly be surprised if she would. I mean it’s been four weeks. 

I took the long shortcut to my house. I just don’t want to cross the lake, it’s so much of a hassle. It may be a shorter walk to go across the lake, but this one's much faster, especially from where I am in the opera house. The only issue with this route is I have to climb and descend so many flights of stairs. I’m too old for this. 

When I finally reached my house, I headed straight for my music room, throwing my coat on the hanger on the way towards the stairs. I picked up the violin, inspiration still flowing through me. The picture of Christine in that dress just did something to me. She made me want something that seemed foreign to me. I realize now how I’ve been starved of these feelings that were once unknown to me. I figured, who could ever want someone like me, someone as ugly as me, but then Christine came along and it was just a fantasy I had, nothing that would ever come true, and then it did. Who knew such simple seduction could do so much. I may have to do some fixing on the dress if she’s wearing it to the ball. I don’t want all those no good, entitled, rich men, trying to touch her with those grimy hands of theirs. I want her to only be mine, which I know that she will be. and with these thoughts in mind, I started writing the one song my Opera has been missing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, don't feel afraid to tell me. Constructive criticism is welcome here.


	23. Chapter 23

“Wait, what did you think our soul connection was?” I asked after seeing Meg’s shocked face. After she was scared about what happened to my face, I had to explain to her that my soul connection with Erik is that we have each other's scars. I didn’t realize this was a conversation I would have to have, but it’s quite a painful one.

“I don’t know, but not this.” Meg defended herself.

“I literally showed you my tattoos that are on me because of him. We went on a whole search just to figure out what was behind them, and you didn’t think ‘huh maybe their soul connection is that they have each other’s marks.’ I know what your soul connection is.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never met your soulmate, how was I supposed to put two and two together?”

“Maybe because I told you.”

“You didn’t tell me,”

"Gosh Megs, you’re impossible,” I said shaking my head while resting it in my hand. “Why did you come in here in the first place anyway?” I asked, trying to put the focus on something else.

“Oh right, my mom wants a talk with you.” My head shot up at that. A talk with Madame Giry is never a good thing, well at least never in my experience. Although, most of my talks with her happened because I did something wrong but Meg was the instigator so I never really got into much trouble, just chastised.

“Alright, but can you help me get out of this dress first.”

"Yes, it’s very beautiful, where did you get it?” Meg asked.

“Erik made it for me,” I said, proud of who I was destined for, but still shocked at how perfectly everything fit me. It’s constantly nagging at the back of my mind, and if I’m not careful, it will probably be the first thing out of my mouth when I come face to face with him again. Could you imagine that a romantic moment and all I have ask is ‘How did you know my size’? I’m cringing just thinking about it.

“Can you tell him to make my dress,” Meg asked jokingly.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works Meg.”

“Fine,” She huffed, “I’ll just be wearing my okay dress, stuck in your shadow again.”

“What are you talking about again.” I stopped Meg from where she was untying my corset. “Meg, if anything, I’m always the one stuck in your shadow. You’re the best dancer I know, and I know someday, you’ll rise to the top and outshine even the greatest singer that is on that stage, be it me, or anyone. Plus you won’t have a mediocre dress, your dating the Viscount De Chagny, make him buy you a nice dress for the masquerade ball. You always get what you want.”

She smiled at me for a moment before saying: “Huh, you’re right, I can get anything I want, can’t I.”

“Yeah, you can. Now help me get into more comfortable clothes.”

Once I was in said comfortable clothes, I found myself walking down the hallway, my mind clouded with what the talk could be about. Nothing in particular seemed obvious to me which is what scared me. I'd like to walk into that room having an idea about what is about to happen, but I have no idea. Soon I found myself right outside of her door and breathed a deep breath to try and calm myself down before knocking.

“Come in,” her stern voice sounded through the door. I took another breath to keep calm the walked in with a fake composure. “ah, Christine, you're here.” she said taking her reading glasses off before continuing. “how are you holding up?”

“Fine?” I said, not entirely sure what she was talking about.

“Hm, just as I thought, you're just fine. Well, I have someone here to talk to you about all this.” I was confused about what she was talking about, and even more confused when her door opened and a tanned man walked into the room.

I know he wasn’t standing outside because I just walked through those doors, so I must say, that is impeccable timing.

“Christine, I’d like you to meet a friend of Erik’s.”

I turned to him before saying “Erik doesn’t have any friends.”

“True,” he sat next to me, and even from that one word, I could hear his heavy accent. “I am but a friend from a long time ago, another life almost.”

“Right,” I said, trying to think through his odd wordings. For a man who this isn’t his first language, he sure does speak like it is.

“Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself, I am Nadir.” He said holding his hand out to me.

“Christine,” I said shaking it.

“I know.” I looked at his face as the name registered in my head before it clicked. Erik didn’t talk about his past much when I was with him, but I did get a little story out about a man who has followed him all the way from Persia.

“You’re the Daroga.”

“Ah, as much as I insist, he still uses my old title. Well, it’s good to know at least he talked to you about me.”

“Right, and what are we here to talk about,” I asked, looking between Madame Giry and the Daroga.

“Your and Erika relationship, or the lack thereof,” Madame Giry explained.

“Yes, well, I just want to warn you to be safe and sensitive with Erik. He has had a hard life, not one you could easily jump right into and tell stories of. You were made for him, and so your instincts will kick right in, but I don’t want another ordeal like this happening again, for both of your sakes. You were both hurt in this, and soon enough, he’ll get over himself, and you’ll get over yourself, and all will be well again, but, until that moment, I just want to warn you.

“Erik has never been one to open up easily, so be patient with him. It will be hard sometimes, especially when you want to know his reasoning for doing something and he just won’t spill, but with a backstory like his, I don’t think you would either. I believe in fate, and fate has brought you both together, I’m just here to make sure you two don’t tear it apart again.”

“And I’m here to make sure that you two are both safe.” Madame Giry cut in.

“Correct, -” Nadir continued, but was cut off by Madame Giry again.

“And that is why I want you to keep your distance.”

“Excuse you,” I butted in. I could tell that Nadir was as surprised as I was, clearly not fully in on what the details were of this conversation.

“It’s exactly as I say, you two may be right for each other, but neither of you is right for each other. He doesn’t deserve you, Christine, you’re too good for him.”

“I think I’m perfect for him, just as he is for me.”

“His past is sketchy.”She argued.

“My past is sketchy then.” Nadir butted in. I almost forgot he was here, in just that short of time. “We share similar past, albeit, he definitely has a worse one, for I am only a chief, he was- well something much worse.”

“A murderer, just say it, he’s killed, people.” What?

“It was that or be killed himself,” What? “In fact, that’s why he had to run because he refused to keep killing.”

“Can someone explain to me what is going on because this conversation has taken an unexpected turn and I am thoroughly confused.” This is not how I was expecting to find out about parts of Erik’s past. I was thinking more over tea, late at night. We were sitting in peace when he spontaneously decided to uncover a piece of his past for me.

That is certainly not what is happening here.

“See, he hasn’t even told her,” Madame Giry sparked back up in the argument.

“Of course he hasn’t told her,” Nadir argued back, “he doesn’t like talking about his past. It brings up bad memories and makes him go into a deep and dark depression if he’s not carefully handled with. Why do you think he’s disappeared from the face of the earth for these past weeks? He’s been coping and I had to take care of him.”

Well, this is all news to me. Murder, depression, I’ve had a bad past, but nothing compared to this.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Nadir said upon seeing the distressed look on my face. “He was forced to like I said, that or his life.”

I got up, processing the information before I turned and walked out the door.

The first thing I processed was what Madame Giry had said, she doesn’t want us to be together. I can’t believe her. I thought she supported us in this relationship, she helped us through the tough time of me getting the scars, she didn’t seem to mind. So why is it all the sudden a problem? Madame Giry didn’t even care when I was going through the hardest point in the relationship, right after the fight.

Maybe she had the same conversation with the Daroga, she just got something different out of it than I did. I got to be careful around Erik, watch what you say and later it will become easier because he’ll open up to you about things when he’s comfortable. She obviously got Erik doesn’t care about her, only himself, and if she says something wrong, he’ll surely kill her, which was not the message.

The next thing I processed was what the main topic of conversation was about. Murder. I feel like I knew that, somewhere deep down inside, I knew he was a killer. Looking back on my life, it all makes sense. Times I’ve tried to forget with people I’ve cursed and who have never shown their faces again. But hearing it confirmed, well, that brought on a whole new meaning to the word murder. His hands are covered in blood that he’s spilled, and yet I can’t find it in me to care.

I don’t know why, it’s completely out of character of me to lack empathy, but I don’t. Nadir did say that it was kill or be killed. Plus I didn’t know those people, I don’t know what they’ve done, what I do know is, that the people I think he’s killed have brought it on themselves. Therefore that leads me to believe that all of those other people brought it on themselves. I highly doubt that he walked down the streets, slitting people’s throats.

I was going to get him back, I’m not going to live a life secluded, standing back and watching as all of my other friends live happily ever after with their soulmates while knowing mine was living just under my feet, no thank you. Relationships take work, they’re not just something you can sit back and think it’s going to come your way magically. That’s why I’m going to the ball, I keep telling myself that it won’t be humiliating waiting there for Erik to arrive, but it will all be worth it in the end, hopefully.

* * *

I exited the door and readied myself after I saw a dark figure out of the corner of my eye. After walking down the grand staircase leading up to the main doors, I was dragged off the street and into the alleyway and pinned up against the wall.

Erik towered over me and obscured my vision, leaving me in darkness so I could see nothing but his mask. He’s obviously perfected this horror technique, sadly it will work on me no longer.

“What did you do to her?” Of how the tables have turned, if I remember correctly I was asking him this question not too long ago.

“Well, Erik, I’m offended. All I do is visit your place of work and you accuse me of tormenting your Christine.”

“Nadir, the only reasons you come here are to spy on me, but today, you didn’t try and come down one time, therefore leading me to believe that you had a conversation with her, then I find her and she’s moping around. What am else am I supposed to do.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Nicely, really? I was never one to be nice.”

“How was I supposed to know she didn’t know anything, and I mean anything, about your past.”

He froze and his grip pushing me up against the wall loosened and I could finally catch my breath. He wasn’t pushing so hard as to where I would suffocate but was I definitely becoming short of breath.

“You told her about my past?” He took another step back, and I was planning my escape because I could tell this wouldn’t end well.

“Only a little.”

“Which part.” He muttered under his breath.

“The only part I know.” He stared at me, “the murder part.”

Then he was gone in an instant. It was quite impressive and relieving. Relieving because now I’m not going to die, and impressive because I didn’t even see him move. It was like I blinked and he was gone, probably the short of breath, it’s making me go insane.

That or the old age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a chapter with an actual plot line. Took me long enough. I felt like I was just writing filler chapters and I felt really bad, but it's back. haza.   
> As always, anything incorrect, please tell.


	24. Chapter 24

“Christine,” A knock sounded at my door. I groaned, not wanting to wake up and practice today. It is the day before the grand opening of the Opera, meaning it’s a day before the ball, and these practices are going to be rough. 

“Christine, please open up it’s an emergency.” As my senses kicked in, I recognized the voice as one of the managers. Immediately I shot up out of my bed, grabbing my robe and right before I opened the door, I remembered I have scars, both on my face, chest, arms, and legs. I pulled my hair down more over my face and pulled the robe tighter so my chest was covered and hoped that he wouldn’t look down and see my legs. I quickly opened the door and acknowledged Monsieur Richard. 

“Oh Christine, thank god. We need you now.”  He said and started to escort me out of the room, but I had to stand my ground because I wasn’t covered. 

“Uh sir, may I ask why.” He turned and looked at me before remembering that he hadn’t told what this was all about. 

“Oh right, well, La Carlotta has fallen sick with a bad cold. Sneezing, coughing, a sore throat. We need you to play the lead in tomorrow's play.” What, I can’t possibly learn and play the role in this short amount of time, it’s not possible. Plus, it’s supposed to be a big show. 

“What about the understudy?” I asked, trying to get out of this. 

“The understudy is you.” What. 

“Well then why didn’t I practice with her or learn the part up to this point.” 

“Because we didn’t think we would have to exchange roles, La Carlotta looked to be in good health all through the practices, nobody thought she would just come down with something so quickly, I mean she didn’t even show signs of being sick before.” Erik, this has signs of him all over everything. He’s lucky he taught me the music before the fight. I don’t think this was his plan from the beginning, but I do think it was going to be something similar. I can’t believe him sometimes, how far ahead does he plan his life? 

“Okay, well let me get ready first, I'll be right out,” I said, leaving him looking a little conflicted because girls around here have a long record of taking forever of getting ready. I quickly put on a simple outfit that would be easy to measure me in and that I won’t have to take off. Then I went over to the mirror and quickly put on cover-up makeup, having gotten better at it over the few weeks, I was ready in about fifteen minutes. 

When I opened the door again, Monsieur Richard was still standing there, pacing around the hallway. He leads the way, and the first place we stopped was the dressing room. All of Carlotta's clothes were being taken in to fit me. Once we were done there, it was straight to the stage to practice this for this rest of the day. It was six in the morning. It’s going to be a long day. 

I’m tired, I’m in pain, I’m hated, and I’m going insane. 

Wow, I should be a poet. 

But I am going insane. I could have sworn I saw Erik, which isn’t far-fetched, he still lives here, but I’ve only ever heard Erik during practices, he’s never shown himself, he’s too careful. 

I’m currently sat in my room in this uncomfortable corset and three pounds of makeup caked on my face, thinking if it was real. They made me take a break because my voice cracked bad when I saw him. They assumed I was just tired, and they don’t want to have to find a third person to play the role of the countess. 

I sighed and stood up, groaning in pain at my feet, these heels are killing me and walked over to my vanity. I made sure my makeup has no smudges in it, but out of the corner of my eye, I found a piece of paper that I remember wasn’t there this morning. In fact, it is in the place of Erik's mask that I took that day, meaning that whoever placed this letter took the mask. 

I picked it up and unfolded it, noticing it was from Erik. After reading it, I was sent into practice with a new light. See I practiced this such a long time ago with Erik, I pretty much forgot all of the technique that will help me sound, well, angelic. 

I pretty much limped to practice and hoped they have a bigger size shoe because apparently La Carlotta's feet are minuscule or mine are huge. 

Honestly, the note was disappointing, I was expecting something bigger, but I guess that’s why he showed himself. He knew I would be shocked, they’d send me away, then he could teach me without actually being there.   

“Hey you good,” Meg asked as I walked on to the wings of the stage. I nodded my head, yes, smiling and walking towards the main stage. 

“Ah Christine, you’re back, good. Alright, from the top.” A mixture of moans and groans sounded from the rest of the cast, but now with a new light, I was going to get it perfect this time. 

* * *

I stood behind the grand, waiting for it to open and for this night to be over with. This wig is weighing down on my head, the heels are still killing my feet, and this corset is still strangling me. The music started playing, and I put a fake smile on my face as the curtains started opening. There was an awkward silence in the crowd, them noticing that I am not La Carlotta like they had assumed I would be, but upon realizing that I was the girl who sung in Hannibal that one night, a huge round of applause sounded out. 

The Opera was going well I think, and from what I could see when I starred out into the crowd, it was full, just like the managers had hoped. They’re money sucking pigs, but making me famous, so I don’t really get a say. 

This is the best part of performing live. You get that rush that something could go wrong at any second. A prop could fall apart, a heel could break, a wig could fall off, but the show goes on, and that’s what I love. I live for the audience's reactions, they make me feel free and the pain go away. Hearing the audience laugh at parts of the play, it was hard to keep my smile away, but I am a good actress, and I went through strongly, but that didn’t mean that for the first intermission, I couldn’t be a big light bulb. 

“Jeez, Christine, you’re practically glowing” Meg said, bouncing up to me. 

“I know. It’s just I love hearing the audiences reactions” I said to her. 

“Did you see Raoul, is he here?” Oh right. 

“Well, the good news is, he is here.”

“And the bad new?” 

“I think he got kicked out of his box.” Yeah, pretty sure Erik locked the doors because he was sick and tired of people sitting in his box. He probably changed the locks to because he knew management has the master keychain. Therefore, Raoul and his brother are sitting front row, at least they’re close and not like, sitting in the back or something. 

I also think I saw Erik in his box, which is calming, knowing that he is still watching every performance. He’s the reason I sing well because I want to impress him. I don’t want to give him another reason to be mad at me, I want him to be proud. 

However, when the second act started up again and I looked in the box, I didn’t see his shadow. I thought maybe he just moved further back into the box or was standing more still than usual. I could only see him because he’s a fidgeter and I could see the shadow moving. I tried to pull my focus away from him, to focus on the Opera since I still didn’t have as much practice as every other person involved in this. I mean, if you asked me to do the ballet, I’d be perfect at it, but not this. 

Halfway through act two, I noticed a little more movement in the wings, but it was when I was back there did I truly understand what was happening. 

Just as I was walking off, trying to find some water, a gurney was rolled past me, with a large object on it under a blanket. I gasped, instantly putting the pieces together, but not understanding why. Why would he murder someone in the middle of an Opera, it doesn’t make any sense. He was in his box, why couldn’t he just stay there. That must have been what happened, he left the box and the man saw him and he had to kill him. That’s still not a reason to kill. 

I sat down, not fully comprehending everything that’s happened. I knew he was a killer, and I made peace with the fact that he was a killer. But now I know that he still is a killer, and that’s something completely different than was. I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down, even trying to stick my head in my lap to breathe better, but it was all so impossible. Also, why are they just letting the opera go on after a murder? 

He probably made it look like an accident. Maybe it was an accident. I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. I don’t even know who died, maybe it was some person I didn’t know, and something just happened that pushed him over the edge. I hope not, that would be awful, but way better than Erik killing someone. 

“Christine, Christine, there you are, you’re almost on.” I nodded at the stage manager, taking the glass of water that was placed next to me, gulping it down, then stood up and tried to compose myself. It was an accident, only an accident. Nothing more.  

 

The rest of the opera went by without a hitch, which is abnormal, usually, something always goes wrong, but I guess what went wrong is that we lost a life in the production of this. I sighed, taking the heavy wig off my head, it didn’t really go together well with this headache that I’ve gained because of thinking so hard about the death. 

Rumors have already started to spread that this was The Phantoms doing, and it’s only going to add oil to the fire of Madame Giry’s argument. I’ve been avoiding her since the rest of the opera because I didn’t want to hear it from her. 

However, after finding out who died, I’m not too remorseful about it all, actually quite relieved, and that scares me. I should be relieved that a life was lost, but when the life lost was that of a pervert, I find it hard to feel sympathy. 

I made my way back to my dressing room, heels and wig in hand and trying to avoid all people here. Lucky me, they’ll all be in the newer wings where all of the other chorus members and leads are and very little will be in the ballet wings. When I made it back to my dressing room with only exchanging a quick ‘thank you’ to people that said good job or something of the sort. I collapsed on the bed, dropping the wig and heels at the foot. I groaned when I remembered that I have to get ready for the ball. 

Using all of my will power, I stood up and dragged my feet over to the vanity to take all of the makeup off and put on some more simpler stuff on, Then I walked over to the modesty barrier and looked at the mannequin behind it. I had to hide it somewhat so no one else could find it.

I looked at myself for the last time in the mirror, making sure that nothing was out of place. I didn’t put any makeup on under the mask because I figured there was no point, nobody could see my face anyways. The dress fit snug as usual, and the final touch was to pull the hood up over my head. It cast my face in a shadow, meaning that the only telling factor of who I was if you didn’t look closely was the curly brown hair that fell over my left shoulder. And even still, only people who have seen me without a costume on would know who I was, maybe not even then. 

I took a deep breath, then headed out the door to the lower level of the Opera House. The Managers pretty much laid out a large carpet and hung some props from old shows in the cafeteria and called it a ballroom. When I walked in, it was probably at least an hour, if not an hour and a half after the opera ended, and thirty minutes after the doors opened, and there was a decent amount of people in here. As I walked further into the room, catching some attention, but ignoring it, I searched the crowd for Meg, assuming that Erik was going to make some dramatic entrance. Finally, I saw unmistakable blond hair and a checkered dress standing next to a tall, slim man with blond hair and a checkered suit and pants and knew it had to be them. As I got closer to them both, Meg noticed and recognized the dress form before and waved me over. 

“Well don’t you look stunning.” Meg said, bumping hips with mine. 

“I could say the same about you, and I love the matching outfits.” I said back. I hugged and Meg both in saying hello. 

“Here, Meg told me to save you a drink.” I grabbed the plastic cup, definitely a prop, out of his hand, thanking him. 

We talked for a little longer, having a fun time before everybody really showed up. I recognized a few people in the crowd, but it was hard through the masks. However, some people *cough* La Carlotta *cough* walked in with their big head and a box of tissues, it was unmistakable who they were. Jammes and Ashley walked over and talked to us for sometime. Eventually, I made an excuse that I was going to go get something more to drink, but really I wanted Meg and Raoul to go and be able to dance without me. But I didn’t even make it to the drink table before I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

“May I have this dance,” That voice was like no other, and yet I almost forgot what it sounded like, and when I turned around, I saw the face that was like no other, and I took his hand. 

Not the dramatic entrance I was thinking, but this is so much better than storming in and making a scene. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if I've said this yet but my timeline is completely thrown off, but hey, now they have contact again, yay.   
> If any grammar or spelling problems, feel free to tell


	25. Chapter 25

“May I have this dance?” Erik asked. I quickly turned around, instantly recognizing the voice, and stood there in shock. He was matching me. Black shirt and pants, red jacket, red hat, skeleton mask covering the upper part of his face, coming down in just the right place to cover most of the scars.

I looked down at the hand he was holding out for me, gloves of course, and I took his hand. A small smile appeared on his face, I don’t even think it counts as a smile because of how small it was, pretty much just an upturning of the lips. He bent at the waist,kissing my hand and shocking me, before turning and leading me to the dancefloor.

A couple people turned and stared, but it was a masquerade ball, and it just looks like a couple going to dance, which I guess technically we are. We found a spot in the middle of the room right as another song started. He lightly swung me around to face him and then I remembered. This man is a jack of all   
trades and master of all. I’m going to get trampled on, I’m a ballet dancer, not a ballroom dancer. It probably won’t be that hard for me to pick it up, I mean, I am a professional dancer.

The music started again and he placed one arm around my waist, holding my hand with his other. Then we started moving along to the music. Both of us having music in our hearts, we easily kept beat to the song without even thinking.

Which in turn made it very awkward.

Since neither us of were focusing on the dancing aspect, well me a little, but once I got the gist, it wasn’t very hard, we were both just staring at each other very tensely. I looked away from his burning eyes, trying to avoid the intensity of them.  It made it really awkward so I bad to think of something to say but   
there were so many questions running through my mind that I could ask.

Where were you the last couple of weeks?

What did you do?

Why did take so long to come back to me?

Why did you ignore me?

How in the world did you get my size perfect for this dress?

No, not the last one, I promised myself I couldn’t do the last one.

“You look stunning.” He said breaking the silence.

“Thank you,” Great job Christine, way to keep the conversation going. God this is awkward.

“So-“We both said at the exact same time.

“You go first.” I said, trying to not actually having something to say when I started talking in the first place.

“No, you, ladies first.” He insisted.

“No, please, you.” He looked at me in question for a second before continuing on.

“You sounded amazing tonight, I’m glad Carlotta got sick and you were fortunate enough to land the part.” I looked at him knowingly. We both know he did it to her, but he shot back a look that said don’t ask, so I didn’t. “Truly amazing up there, the makeup was a little extreme, but the people from the back   
probably didn’t think so.”

I looked away, blushing at the compliment that was hidden within the insult, that’s my Erik, but while doing so I stepped on his foot. I blushed harder, glad the mask and makeup was hiding my face, and uttered a sorry.  The song ended, and everyone stopped dancing to clap for the orchestra, well   
everyone except Erik.

“Why aren’t you clapping,” I asked him as he pulled me off to the side of the room.

“Because they aren’t that good.” I stared at him as we passed around a couple getting very, very intimate, being chest to chest and practically undressing each other with their eyes.

“So, it’s common courtesy.” I argued.

“It’s not common courtesy if they’re all out of tune.” He said, leading me to a somewhat secluded corner.

“Barley.”

“Very, only you would hear it,”

“Because I’m so much better than all of them.” He said confidently, even though it was true.

“So, you still have to make them feel good about themselves. You being so much better still means they’re masters at their instruments.”

“That is very true,” He said leaning against the wall. I leaned against the wall, but subtly made my way towards him, trying to rest my head on his shoulder, keeping all of the other women away.

I missed times like this. Times where we messed around and bantered back and forth. I never got yelled at either because of it. Around Madame Giry, who taught me how to be a woman, I would have to sit up straight, stand up straight, hold my tongue, not tell jokes. Well I am a very witty person, and Erik and I are so comfortable around each other, I don’t feel ashamed to tell jokes like Madame Giry would make me. I stared up at him, trying to look at his face, but he is so much taller than me, I saw his chin, at best.

Then he looked down with such love and adoration sparkling in his eyes, I forgot what day it was. I wanted to kiss this man on the spot.

So I did.

In retrospect, I should have thought it through more. He is a very ‘keep away from me’ kind of guy, and kissing him without asking may open up some wounds I don’t know about, but I didn’t think of any of this until I pulled away and saw the shock in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I just, I was excited, and-“ He cut me off with a kiss. A simple peck on the lips, but I loved every millisecond of it. He’s never been this forward, but I guess a long time away from you soulmate will do that to you.

We stood there for a while longer just enjoying each other’s company in a comfortable silence. Suddenly, he pushed away from the wall and turned to me.

“Do you want some punch?” He asked suspiciously, though there should be nothing suspicious about getting punch. I nodded my head and made to follow him, but he pushed me back lightly, saying he would get it by himself.

I watched as he disappeared into the crowd, thinking the night over. I really hope that from this night on, things can go back to the way they’re were, but still different. I want us to be comfortable around each other, but I also want us to move on with our relationship. I want us to be able to cuddle up next to each other while reading. I want to rest both hands on his shoulders while I trying to read the sheet music. I don’t, however, want to scare him away. I don’t want o push him to where he feels uncomfortable but keeps playing along because he feels bad that I want to. But I know if I never make a move, he never will because he probably thinks that I find him repulsive. But I don’t I love him, however, he doesn’t know that.

It’s gotten later into the night, about twoish hours into it, and most parents of younger children went home, leaving the dance floor a little more clear, but still really crowded. I feel like time has flown by, having spent most of it with Meg and Raoul, and a little bit with Erik, I haven’t got to look around at all of the costumes. They were all very beautiful, some more interesting than others, but I could still tell who the person was if I knew them.

After about five minutes, I realized that it’s been way to long for him to have just been getting unch unless he got lost on the way there. There’s no way the punch line is that long. I started to make my way over to it, when the music stopped and gasps filled the room.

I looked over towards the front of the room, and sure as day, there Erik was, making his dramatic entrance.

I can’t believe him.

I started to push my way towards the front of the crowd, most people in to much of a trance to even realize that I’ve almost knocked them over.

“I’m so glad I could make it,” He said, his booming voice echoing throughout the room. “I wouldn’t want to miss a party thrown in celebration of my absence.” Gasps filled the room, people familiar with the Phantom story putting the pieces together, but other still confused. “Why so silent, please, please, don’t stop partying in spite of me.” He looked around the room, a crazy smile plastered on his face as he looked around the room, his eyes skipping right over me as I was halfway through the crowd.

“Well,” He started again, “since I have the floor, I would like to announce, I have written an Opera that is to be performed by this opera company. It is called ‘Don Juan Triumphant’.” Gasps filled the room and the whispering started to ensue, making me getting through the crowd even harder. Erik walked over to the managers and handed them the folder, with presumably what is the opera inside. “My instructions are inside, I suggest you follow them to the dot. They shouldn’t be that hard to understand, I wrote them out specifically so you would be able to comprehend.” A snarky smile spread across his face as he said that. He took a couple steps back where he came from right as I made my way to the front of the crowd.

His eyes fell on me and his mood immediately changed, starting to look a little regretful.

“Why,” I whispered to him, and his mood reverted back to the murderous look as before.

“Because,” he said back before a puff of smoke broke out infront of him, masking his whereabouts.

Most people were taken aback by the smoke, and couching like it was actually harming them, but I knew he wouldn’t take the risk of making the smoke hurtful, not with me in the room. The second the smoke cloud erupted I shouted, disgruntled, and ran into it, trying to get to him before his trap door shut. Luckily I made it.

It was dark, very dark. I called out Eriks name in hopes that he would come back and get me because I know he wouldn’t let a trap door go unprotected. I heard slight footfalls approach, so light I could have sworn it was just water dropping, but then he grabbed my arm. I jumped a little, but then relaxed when I realized it was him. I followed where he pulled, not being able to see a thing. Eventually we turned a corner and light started to filter into the halls, right as my eyes were adjusting to the darkness too.

Suddenly, we were in his house, coming out a door from under his staircase that I didn’t even know was there, and I lived here for like two weeks. Then, only then did he start talking.

“Why did you follow me?” He asked, pushing me towards the couches.

“Because I didn’t know if I you would come back, and I couldn’t lose you again.” Gosh that’s awfully cliché and I wish I hadn’t said it.

“I would have come back, you almost ruined my entire plan.”

“Right because your plan was so fool proof in the first place. Somebody could have remembered you dancing with me.

“My plan was fool proof. Those managers didn’t suspect a thing, apparently my plan wasn’t soulmate proof though.” He said, sitting down on the couch and letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re a handful you know.”

“Like you would know,” I said sitting down next to him, “You’ve spent the last couple weeks hiding from me.”

“True, but I spent the last fifteen years teaching you, so I know you well.”

“Yes, you know me well, but I do not know you at all.” He turned to me.

“You do know somethings about me.” He silence filling in like he wanted me to say something, but I didn’t know what to say, I don’t know what he was fishing for. “Murder?”

Oh right, literally the most important thing I’ll probably ever learn about my soulmate and I forgot. Probably because I was pushing it to the back of my mind. Although, I’m pretty sure he did kill someone earlier this evening.

“Why do you still even want to be with me Christine, I don’t understand.” He asked.

“Because maybe you had a justified reason to do so. All I was told was that you had a hard life leading up to that point, but never what happened before, or really even after.” Silence filled the room again while he thought about what to do.

The look on his face said he was about ready to get up and close himself in his room, so I braced myself for the worst. But when he took in a breath and started speaking, it kind of shocked me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a chapter, it's a day early, I have band camp next week, not making promises sorry
> 
> Also, I didn't edit this chapter so there's probably a lot of grammar and spelling errors so don't be afraid to tell me.


	26. Chapter 26

At some point, we lost Christine. I felt really bad about it but I did want to spend the night with Raoul. I’m such a bad friend.

However, I didn’t get to spend the night alone with Raoul.  

You see the thing about Raoul is that he’s very popular because he has to at least pretend to like people because he is the Viscount. But no it was fun pretty much standing around being the woman that hangs off his arm. They probably thought I was just some throwaway he picked up for the night so he didn’t look lonely, mostly because we haven’t announced that he found his soulmate.

It’s been a while now since Christine left. We’ve danced for about two songs, I saw Christine in the back corner standing alone, but smiling. I’m holding my drink taking little sips here and there just to give myself something to do while Raoul is trapped in another conversation.

“Raoul is that you,” a voice called out.

 _Great,_ a _nother tall, influential white man just what I needed right now_ , I thought to myself and caught Raoul’s attention. I’m still forgetting the hole sharing a mind thing, and it is not working out for me. We have found that the more we want the other to hear it subconsciously, the more they can hear it. Also the stronger the emotion we’re feeling, the more the other can get a hint of it. As we spend more time together, our soul bond will keep becoming stronger and stronger. We’ll be able to communicate from long distances and feel each other’s emotions all the time, at least that’s what the book said.

Sometimes I think it’s a good thing, other’s I just want to lock him in a separate room so he’ll never be inside my head again.

The book did also say that we can block the other out, but we have to become more comfortable with figuring out which thoughts are theirs and which are not.  

I wish we had each other’s scars like Christine and Erik.

 _I’ll get us out of this._ Raoul thought back. Oh,,, thank god.

“Raoul, I haven’t seen you since you were this tall,” The man said, gesturing to around the bottom of his rib cage.

“Yes, it has been a long time.” He chuckled.

“And who is this lovely lady.” The old man asked

“Meg Giry,” I replied, holding my hand out for him to shake. He looked at me a little weird before taking it.

“Right, well, Meg and I were about to get going, isn’t that right,” He said nodding the last part at me. I shook my head yes and smiled at the old man.

“Oh,” He winked, “Alright, well, have fun.” Ew, gross. I don’t want an old man thinking about me having sex. Raoul turned around and guided me out the door as quickly as he could. However, I could have sworn the music stopped abruptly when we were making our leave, but when I turned around to see, Raoul kept pushing me along.

When we finally arrived outside, I turned to him.

“Who was that,” I asked.

“I have no clue,” He laughed out, and I laughed with him. We may be a little drunk.

“What do you say we get out of here?” He asked.

“I believe we already are ‘out of here’”

“No like further. Let’s go, -oh I know,” He gasped “My parents have a cute little house just outside of the city, let’s go there.” He said, starting to pull me along.

“Okay, but I have a performance tomorrow night, and although they won’t be too tough on us because of their hangovers, my mother is still going to be up my butt.” I’m definitely drunk, I would never talk about butts, my mother would kill me.

Raoul waved down a ride while saying: “Trust me, I won’t let you get in trouble, you’re dating one of the richest people on the block.”

“That won’t protect me from my mother” I said as one pulled up. He helped me up before saying the address and let the man take us away.

* * *

 

We pulled up to the front of the house- mansion. It was massive, well in my book it was. I’ve lived in the Opera house all my life, sharing a room with no less than twelve other girls. It was still big for a city home.

“Welcome,” Raoul said opening the door for me. The inside had a nice open area, instantly you were in the living room, and though there were two stories, I could see all the way up to the roof from the front entrance. It had a home cottage feeling and I loved it. “This place was pretty much promised to my brother for when he got married, but he didn’t like it, so now it’s mine. Well, it will be when I get married.” He stood high and proud about it before remembering who I was to him, “As long as it’s okay with you of course” He stuttered out.

“Yes, this place is beautiful,” I said stepping into the house further looking around. There was a staircase right in front of me that led to the second floor, and from where I was I could see all of the doors to the rooms on the second floor. “But you’d have to put a ring on my finger first” I laughed out before turning around.

And there was Raoul, on one knee, holding a mountain of a ring.

“Oh my god,” I whispered.

“Well, I’m putting a ring on your finger now. So Meg, will you marry me?”

I was shocked, and happy, and sad, and had so many emotions running through me, I didn’t know what to say.

Except I totally did.

“Of course,” I said running over to him, covering him with hugs and kisses. “Was this really your plan? You made me wait this long?”

“No, I mean the ring is my father’s mothers’, my brother having gotten my mother’s mothers’ ring, and I was going to wait a little longer, but seeing you stand here, in this home, looking so beautiful, I thought, why wait. You are the perfect match for me, there’s no use in elongating the inevitable.”

“Oh, you’re so romantic,” I said, giving him another kiss. “Oh my gosh, we’re going to have to tell people.”

“Yes, yes we are, but I don’t care what they think, only that I’m with you.”

“Okay sappy, and you’re parents?”

“Right well, I’m a little nervous to tell them we’re engaged, but we are soulmates and they’re going to have to get over themselves. Just because you’re not of the upper class, you will be when we get married. Honestly, I don’t care if you had lived on the streets before I met you, you are still the only one for me.”

I can’t believe I’m engaged to this man.

I can’t believe I’m engaged, and before Christine too. She may have a stronger soul bond, but she doesn’t have a huge ring on her finger so she can suck it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I only had band camp for half the week, I thought I'd still write something because I don't want to leave you hanging. It's short, I know, but it's not just a filler. I'm not a sappy person I do think that they should get engaged. Plus I like writing as meg, she's more sassy.


	27. Chapter 27

I could hear the people laughing at me as they walked away. I could hear the laughing of my keeper as he counted his dollars. I looked down at all of the glass surrounding me thinking one day I’ll get out of here, some way, somehow.

I thought I would never be loved by my mother, so why stay there, so I left thinking anywhere was better. I was wrong, definitely wrong.

A gypsie carnival picked me up after I begged them to take me, I told them that I would do anything just to get some food, so they had me clean. I still had my mask on, I guess they thought I didn’t like my face, I don’t know, but I cleaned a lot. Then one day, I was singing in my little area where I sleep, when they saw my face. From there, they put me in a cage and fed me bread and water every day for a long time. So long I stopped keeping track of time. Definitely past puberty, but not very far I guess.

Then one day I did get out. I was tired of the name-calling, the getting things thrown at me, and not getting good food. I had lost too much weight for it to be healthy and I was going to leave.

So, one day I snapped. There was a party, I could hear the people hanging out around the bonfire, and I could see the light through the cracks of my caravan. My guard just changed shifts and was drunk out of his mind. I had twenty-four-hour guards because I had tried to escape before and was really good at getting far, but this time I was so determined to escape that I was going to succeed.

I picked up a piece of one the broken bottles someone threw at me and walked up to the hammered guard who was leaning against the gate that separates me from the guests and grabbed his keys. The plan was to get out of there without him waking up, but the gate was so squeaky from not being used. SO when he woke up, I took the piece of bottle glass and stabbed him with it when he came running at me. My first kill.

A shriek sounded in the distance, telling me he knew his soulmate, and I made a run for it.  By the time they found the body and that I was gone, I had already run a fair distance. I didn’t really plan well, I didn’t have any food or water, and I had to fend for myself for weeks. I just kept walking until one day all the sudden I was in the desert.

I’m still not sure how I got there, probably kidnapped, maybe I just walked that far, highly doubt it because I woke up in a jail cell, which is a great circle I made.

I was brought to the leader, a queen I guess, who would decide whether or not I would be killed. I promised her that I could do great things, she, of course, couldn’t understand me, which is where Nadir came in. he translated what I said, and I survived.

But I had to kill people for her entertainment.

I created masterpieces of death traps, torture chambers. I would kill one person for her entertainment while she would keep their soulmate in the same room as her so she could hear the exact moment that their bond was broken. She loved it, it brought her great joy.

I don’t even know if those people broke the law, I just know that I had to kill them to stay alive. I became very good in the art of killing, although not something you should put on your resume, definitely helpful.

However, people started to fear me. I could walk down the streets because people would quiver in fear. Would I just snap somebodies neck because I could? I wouldn’t, but they would still think like that. I was used to the looks, my maids and some children who came to visit me while I was with the gypsies had that look in their eyes.

But when word got out that I was more feared than the leader herself, she ordered me dead. Everyone who tried to kill me died themselves, their attempts were tireless and slightly annoying. Eventually, I found that they were going to poison my food, and so I tried to escape the city. Unfortunately, my face is very recognizable and the people still did fear her just not as much as they feared me. They would report my whereabouts to her meaning I had to stay on the move again.

Nadir helped me escape. He made me a mask to escape the city and the surrounding towns, and then put me on a train and another train until eventually, I made it back to Pairs.

I told him to leave me alone here, but apparently, he didn’t listen.

We were in the outskirts of Paris when I told him that, so he left but trailed behind me in a distance. I could tell he was following me. Being attacked from all sides just the week before really raises the senses.

I walked into the city, expecting to find work easily. I was ready to just build a bunch of buildings for I did have a good architecture background from building the torture chambers. They turned me down at the door, and so I moved on and got turned down again. When it got late, I stole some food and settled down in an alleyway, apparently the wrong alleyway. I was beaten to a pulp, but still made it out better than the other guys, and that’s how Madame Giry found me. Clothes torn, face beaten and bruised, and rain washing the blood off of me.

She took me in and hid me under the opera house, which just happened to be under construction. So, while I was down there, I did the only sensible thing and rewrote the plans and replaced them. This is what makes up the Opera house now, although I did go back and fix everything they built wrong.

I spent my days teaching myself the art of music, which came to me quickly. Then you came and I heard your voice.

I knew your father, he didn’t know me, but I definitely knew of him. He was a magnificent player, and it was a true sin when he died. Not that I believe in a god, but the thought is still there.

The first time I heard you sing, you were hovering over his grave, wetting it with your tears holding a single rose. Yet through all the sadness, I could hear the potential to be a wonderful singer, and here you are. 

* * *

 

She stared at me, disbelief written across her face. She breathed in like she was going to say something, but then shut her mouth. So many emotions passed across her face as she just stared. Then after some time she finally said something.

“I knew your life was hard, but oh my, gosh.” She paused for a moment longer before continuing, “So she just like, ordered you dead.”

“Yes, and at the time I didn’t want to die, but now, living with the reminders every day, I wish she had succeeded.”   
“Don’t say that! That’s not fair to me. If you had died, then we would have never met and I would have never kicked Carlotta out of my rightful spot, and then who would have been my soulmate, or would I have just lost mine before I was even born, or young, because the timeline was very vague.”

“I don’t know, maybe somebody that deserves you more.”

“Nobody deserves me more than you do, we’re soulmates for a reason, there’s nobody better for me and there’s nobody better for you.”

“I’m broken Christine, no one should be cursed to live with me for the rest of my life. I don’t even know how to love, because I’ve never been loved and probably never will be. ”

“That’s not true and I’m broken too Erik, but it’s a blessing to have you as my soulmate. I wouldn’t want it any other way, why can’t you understand that.”

“I can still hear the screams of the people I murdered. They haunt me and they’ll never leave.”

“And yet you once told me that when I’m with you, your mind is clear as the blue sky.”

I paused, holding my head in my hand and sighing.

“Why do we always fight like this,” I asked.

“Because you aren’t confident enough in your love for me.” She replied.

“I don’t deserve it. You’re perfect, I can’t find a flaw in you. Plus, you don’t even love me.”

She looked at me, slightly offended.

“I never said that, don’t go putting words in my mouth. You’re wrong, everything you just said is wrong. There are plenty of things wrong with me, you just look past them to see the best in me, as I do to you. I know the issues are there in me just like you know the issue is there with you, but I ignore them because it doesn’t bother me. Those flaws you see are what made you, you, and I’m not going to judge you for that, I’m going to love you for that.” She said grabbing my hand.

I sat there, basking in the warmth of her hand before I really processed the weight of her words.

She loves me, she really loves me. She said it out of her own mouth.

How could she love me, we just spent the past couple weeks apart because of a fight. She shouldn’t love me, she should hate me.

“How- why,” I said, not being able to find my words.

“Well, over our time spent apart, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, the fight, what I could’ve done so that it didn’t tear us apart. I dreaded the fact that we barely spent time together, barley got to know each other. I was distracted and it was starting to show in my dancing, and when I told my confidant, she-they said that I loved you and wanted you back. That didn’t really help in the long run because then I had to run it down in my head, do I love you, and the answer was yes, I just didn’t know it yet. She told me that what we have is special, and I don’t want to lose this, I don’t want to lose you.” Her eyes held such strong emotion as her eyes became glossy.

“I love you too,” I said, then leaned in.

When our lips touched, it was like I discovered a whole new emotion. We’ve kissed before, but never like this. This kiss was filled with love and adoration on both sides, no surprise because it was a spur of the moment type thing.

It feels really cliché, thinking about it like this, so many books have explained first kisses like this and I had always rolled my eyes, but when you love someone, really truly with your heart, that’s exactly what you feel.

She pulled away slowly and I opened my eyes to look at her. At some point during the kiss, we shifted so it was easier, both of us leaning into the other, which gave me a close up of those beautiful eyes of hers.

They were still slightly glassy with tears but held another emotion entirely, and from that, I knew I wouldn’t let this woman out of my sight again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school started yeah *note sarcasm*


	28. Chapter 28

I woke up with a weight on the left side of my chest. Thinking I was in sleep paralysis, I tried to move my toes and fingers but could do that with ease. I looked at my chest in confusion and found Christine lying in her beauty, memories of the night before floating back to me.

It all happened so fast yet I don’t regret anything, I just hope she still feels the same also.

I rolled her off of me carefully, trying not to wake her, and stood up. She laid there, her hair perfectly surrounding her head, sleeping peacefully, snoring just the slightest bit. She looked like the angel she once believed me to be.

I left the room quietly, as to not wake her, and headed down to the kitchen. I decided since I was up and there was no way I was going back to sleep, that I would just cook breakfast. I haven’t had a good nutritious breakfast since the last time Christine was here. Not because I can’t cook, but because I never had time or energy.

I decided on just eggs and coffee, I don’t ever have much in my house, but it was enough to show I was thinking of her this morning. Right as I was plating the food, I heard Christine rustling around in the room, obviously having some problems if the loud noise was anything to count for. The teapot whistled and I turned to grab it before remembering to grab the pot holders. I pulled it off the heat and placed it on the counter to grab to teacups. I filled the cups and placed them on the table, then tried to remember where I last put the sugar.

I hid it away from Christine and moved its location every day so that she wouldn’t find, but I haven’t touched it since she left, and that was such a long time ago for my old memory. She emerged from her room, where we spent the night last night, looking as beautiful as always. She had a nightgown on, but I could tell she had brushed her hair and put a little makeup on.

Christine smiled as she walked down the stairs and made a hard left, heading for the closet under the stairwell. She went inside it and pulled the sugar out, smiling at me when she turned to show it to me. I stood there dumbfounded as to how she knew where it was when she walked past me and placed the sugar in my hand, giving me a kiss on the cheek and walking past.

“How did you know where the sugar was?” I asked, turning to look at her.

“I’m a bloodhound,” She smiled, sitting down.

“No seriously, how did you find it? I live here and I didn’t even know,” I asked her, setting the sugar down on the table, going back to grab the plates, setting on in front of her and the other where I would sit while she told me.

“I got up last night in the middle of the night and wanted some tea. I found it with ease, actually, that was the first place I looked, beginners luck really.” She looked down at the eggs in front of her. “Oh yum, I love a fresh breakfast when I wake up.” Immediately the fork was in her hand and scooping up some eggs. I waited for a reaction, hoping that they were cooked properly. When she looked up after her third scoop and smiled, I was broken out of my trance and tried them myself. They weren’t bad for my first time scrambling eggs. Usually, I use a cookbook and hope luck comes my way, but today I just went for it.

“So you got out of bed last night, boiled water in the teapot, made tea, drank it, then got back into bed?” I asked.

“Yes, I got out of bed, made tea and got back into bed, why do you ask. You’re not thinking I was second-guessing, were you? Erik you know that’s-“

“No, no,” I said cutting her off, “I can’t believe you did all that and I didn’t wake up. I’m usually a light sleeper, I would wake up if a pin dropped, any abrupt noise would wake me, a good defense mechanism, but you did all that without waking me up. I must be getting old.” I said, taking my last bite of food and washing it back with the rest of my tea.

“Or maybe you were just very tired.” She got up and grabbed my dishes, “You don’t get much sleep in general, plus, I bet you were tired out.”

I thought over her words for a second, agreeing with her that I haven’t gotten much sleep before, but I never got much sleep because I would wake up from night terrors, which I didn’t have last night, and from every little sound.

“I think you’ve cursed me, Christine I think it’s your presence around me.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night.” She chuckled at her doubled meaning phrase.  

I stood up and tried to skootch Christine away from the sink because I was not going to let her do them. She fought back, continuing to wash the cup in her hand giving me a look.

“I’m supposed to be doing something nice Christine, you’ve got to give me that.”

“You cooked breakfast, I’m cleaning, that’s how it works.” We held eye contact for a short while before I gave up and walked away, but I could hear her smugness even then. She was already halfway done the dishes by the time I sat down considering that there were only six dishes to begin with.

I grabbed the paper to read all the stupid things happening in the world and was shocked to see the headline was about me.

_Mysterious Man Crashes Opera House Masquerade, Steals leading Soprano._

I huffed a little in laughter and continued reading.

_They were unsuspecting, at the Paris Opera House, when they were planning the masquerade ball. They thought that this would be a regular masquerade party in celebration of the Opening night of their new opera. After a fantastic opening performance leading by Christine Daee, the company of the Opera house got ready and headed down to meet their guest at the ball._

_“It was beautiful,” One guest said, “Not something you would expect that an Opera House could put together, but they did. That’s how I knew something would go wrong.” And something did go wrong. A man, dressed in a red and black costume with a skull mask covering half his face, as though he was attending the ball himself, interrupted the masquerade ball and verbally attacked the managers, then he gave them a folder holding instructions to an opera we believe he wrote, and instructions on how to produce it. Then he disappeared in a puff of smoke, taking Christine Daee, the 18-year-old soprano, with him._

_“It’s the Phantom of the Opera, the ghost that haunts this opera house,” Ballet dancer, Jammes, explained._

_Only rumors of what this phantom looks like have surfaced, but last night, everybody got a good look, and things were not as they seemed. Previous rumors told that he only had a head, surrounded by fire, others that he is just a skeleton with an ice cold touch, but last night trumped those rumors into the ground. Last night, under the mask, people described him to only look like a man. Investigators were called to the opera house the next day by the managers who haven’t disclosed any information about the subject. However, rumor has it that they will be producing this opera and performing it in front of audiences._

_We look forward to seeing if it is truly the masterpiece that the so-called ‘Phantom’ claims it to be, but first, we finish out the performances of the current opera that we suggest you see._

Of course, it’s a masterpiece, I hate the press. Christine walked around me, leaning over the back of the couch and reading the paper over my shoulder.

“Oh my, gosh,” she gasped, ripping the paper out of my hand, putting it closer to her face. You could tell which part of the article she was on by the reaction written across her face. At some point, she revolved around the couch and ended up sitting next to me by the time she finished the article. “I can’t believe they think you kidnapped me, I clearly ran after you after dancing with you through the whole night.”

“That’s hardly the most important part, they don’t think my piece of work is a masterpiece.”

She stared at me in astonishment for a couple seconds before shaking her head.

“Erik, no, that means if they find you, they’ll arrest you for a lot of things, I have to go back, show that nothing happened.”

“What, no Christine, you go, they’ll ask you where you’ve been, and it’s going to be a very hard lie because they all saw you run after me and then disappear.” She sat there thinking about what to do.

“Maybe I’ll just pretend to not know what they’re talking about when they bring it up.”

“Fine, but I’ll be standing by at all seconds, and just so you know, you’re going to have voice lessons starting up again, and don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because I love you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She said, kissing my cheek and going into her room to get changed.

* * *

Erik took me back up to the surface to do some damage control. There’s going to be so many questions, and though I don’t really want to deal with them, I kind of have to. He let me out at my room and gave me a kiss goodbye. I love how much progress we made with our relationship in just one night. I don’t have to sleep alone at night, even though I may still because Erik doesn’t sleep much, but I don’t have to be.

I walk out of my room and bumped into Madame Giry. She gave me a look, I couldn’t tell if it was one of approval or one of disapproval, she’s very hard to read.

“Christine, I was just coming to get you. We are needed in meeting with the managers.” I nodded and followed her to the manager’s office. She said she was coming to get me, does that mean she knows the route down to Erik’s house? That’s a worrying thought, I don’t want her to come down there at any time, what if she catches us doing something. She’s a traditional woman and were not married yet. I hope Erik knows how to keep her out.

We made it to the door and a knock sounded. We waited a few seconds for the door to open.

“Did you hear that?” Madame Giry asked.

“Hear what, all I heard was that you knocked on the door,”

“No, I didn’t,” I felt a tingling sensation on my wrist and looked down at it. _Move the painting behind you._ I turned around and did what Erik said. Behind the painting, was Erik, which I was not expecting.

“What were you expecting?” He asked at my reaction.

“I don’t know, two holes in the wall to look through the painting, you could get caught having a big hole in the wall like that.”

“No, this thing comes up.” He said, pulling the wall back into place to show me. He dropped it back down again, this time holding a letter in his hand. “Give this to the managers, it’s more instructions.”

“Did you know this was going to happen or did you write this on the way?” I asked, grabbing the letter.

“On the way.” He responded like it was obvious. He held on to the letter when I grabbed it, leaning over and giving me another kiss. Madame Giry cleared her throat behind us, breaking us apart.  He pulled the wall back into its place when I placed the picture in the proper place.

Madame Giry knocked on the door and it opened, showing both managers looking frantic and a mad Carlotta behind him.

“Ah, Christine, we’ve been expecting you,” one of the managers said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to write a sex scene, especially because I'm writing it on the school distributed tablet and don't want to get caught, but I can write it later. Also, I didn't feel like I know how to write it, and I don't want to write something if I'm not inspired by it. it'll probably end up being written later in time and posted then, and if I do write it while still writing this story, I will post it in the end chapter notes.   
> Any grammar or spelling please feel free to tell me so I can fix them.


	29. Chapter 29

 Christine walked into the room and it was in the utter chaos, mainly because of La Carlotta. She was screaming her head off, and it was not in French, they do always say when you feel a strong emotion, you speak in your first language. That might explain why half of my arguments with Christine are in her former language.

She gasped at Christine she saw her, stopping her yelling.

"You" she pointed, "You are behind this, I don't know how, but ever since your first time performing, you haven't stopped coming after my neck.”

“How could I be doing that,” Christine asked.

“I don’t know, first dropping the bag on my head, then all the notes, and all the sudden, I conveniently get sick to where I can’t perform, but that’s okay because Christine Daae knows the part,”

“Notes, I didn’t send any notes,” Christine said, but she knows who really did, “and how is you getting sick my fault? How could I have possibly done that without being sick myself? And the bag, I was standing right in front of you the whole time, you’re making me out to be the bad guy and you don’t even have logical explanations. ”

“I don’t know but you did all that,” She pointed her finger at Christine.

“Alright girls, enough,” Madame Giry slammed her cane down on the floor, grabbing everyone’s attention. She nodded at Christine who handed the letter to one of the managers to read. They all stood there, glaring at each other while he did so, sending silent signals of hate.

“Ugh, I’m so sick of this phantom!” Richard handed over the letter to Monchirman for him to read. “He sent more instruction as to how to produce the Opera like we’re actually going to put it on.” The better produce my Opera. I didn’t spend all my time her watching over every little thing to keep this opera house running so it could produce my Opera for it not to.

“Wait, you’re not going to, why not?” Christine asked, worry painted across her face.

“Of course, the star of it would want to know,” Carlotta whispered under her breath.

“Why would we, nobody knows it, it’s not going to make any money in the box office.” Is that all they care about, money? Stingy bastards.

“Maybe because he probably doesn’t care about money.” She defended me.

“You say that like you know him,” Richard commented, placing the letter down on the table.

“That’s because she does.” Piangi spoke for the first time, ruining everything.

“What,” the stumpy manager asked.

“They danced with each other all night last night during the ball.”

“What are you-“Christine said, trying to save it, but to no avail.

“I saw you and him, or someone who was dressed just like him, dancing and having a laugh,” This man doesn’t know when to shut up.

“Is he a man,” MonChirman asked Christine, but Piangi answered instead, saving Christine and her terrible lying skills.

“He looked like one, and acted like one. I don’t see how he wasn’t.”

This is not going well. Everybody in the room stared at each other, trying to figure out what to do. The managers nodded at each other before turning to the read of the crowed and stating their thoughts, which they apparently share.

“We’ll do the Opera then,” Richard started.

“And in doing so, we’ll catch this fiend,” The other continued.

“What?” Madame Giry and Christine said at the same time.

“Yes, we do the Opera, he is sure to come see it,” They are smart, sometimes, I was going to go, see my masterpiece in action.

“That’s impossible,” Madame Giry argued. “He’s obviously a careful man, you’re not going to outsmart him.”

“Not alone, no, but with some support from the police, we can get him easily. We’ll have eyes all over the Opera house, and bar everyone in.”

“And the guest, what are you going to do with them if you do happen to catch him. They’re not going to stay calm.” Madame Giry was right, you can’t lock people in, they won’t come back if you put them in a life threatening experience, and with how obsessed these men are with money, I can’t see that sitting well with them.

“Not many people will go see it.”

“Not many people?” Christine argued,” This is the Phantoms Opera, you publicize that and you’ll fill the house.” The managers stared at her for a moment.

“I hate to say it, but she’s right,” Carlotta said, shocking the whole room. “Friends of mine want to know if we’re going to do it. I told them no, obviously, because I’m not the lead.”

“Are people really just interested in this Opera, I’ve read over it, it isn’t even good.” Christine’s face turned red with anger and furry bloomed inside me. He’s definitely going to regret saying that. Madame Giry putting a calming hand on Christine’s shoulder, and knowing that Christine was defending me in her head calmed me down, well, enough to not jump through this wall right now and strangle most the people on the other side.

“Any who, it doesn’t matter, this Opera will only go down in history as the master plan to catch the man that’s been terrorizing this opera house for years. The old manager didn’t have this leverage that we have on him.”

“And what would that be?” Christine asked.

“The Opera, stay with the conversation Christine” He said like it was obvious, “We are going to use the opera to lure him, and when we see him, we’ll get him with the help of the authorities. We know what box he will be seeing the Opera in, so it shouldn’t be an issue, it’s just seeing him in the box since no one has ever really seen him in there that could pose a true problem.” I’m so glad these men think they’re so smart yet are broadcasting their entire plan to not only me, but my soulmate also. Though this now means that I won’t be able to view my Opera as I had planned, things always go wrong with my plans and I’m always prepared with a second option.

“Are you sure that’s going to work,”

“Well, if you give us some more time to plan with the investigators, it will work, so out all of you.”

Everyone was quickly escorted out of the room by the managers.   
_Meet me at your mirror_ , I wrote to Christine.

* * *

I felt a tingling on my arm, I rolled up my sleeve to read it, and followed the instructions. I walked back, Madame Giry close on my tail, but not talking with me, we left Carlotta and Piangi at the Managers office door. When I got to the door, I noticed that Madame Giry was still following me so I turned around to confront her.

“I want to hear what his plan is.” Madame Giry said.

“How about I’ll go in and if he tells me the plan, I come back out and tell you.”

“Christine-“

“Madame Giry, last time I checked, you don’t support this relationship, so why should I let you in it?”

“You let me in it earlier when you came to me to speak about it,”

The door flew open and we both stood there staring at Erik who was looking annoyed at both of us.

“Would you two stop fighting and get in here,” He said quietly so that no one near could hear.

Madame Giry gave me a smug look before walking in. I gave Erik a look when I walked in and he looked slightly sheepish, not knowing what he did wrong.

“What is your plan,” Madame Giry pestered.

“I’m not sure yet, but what I do know is that their plan is not going to work.” He said triumphantly

“You sound sure about that,”

“I’m am, I better than both of them combined there’s no way their plan will succeed, they’ve got so many holes in it, a feather would break through.”

“Erik, you must still be careful,” I reminded him, “If you get to cocky, you’ll fall right into their trap and then you’ll look like the fool. Plus, I don’t want to lose you again.” We stood there staring at each other for some time before he spoke again.

“Fine, I figure out a fool proof plan.”

“We will figure out a fool proof plan,” I said.

“Yes, Erik you can’t do this on your own.”

“What do you two suggest, then?”

“Well, for starters,” I said, “Don’t sit in your normal box.”

“And don’t draw any unneeded attention to yourself.”

“If they’re getting investigators on this like they say they are, those are most likely smart men who do it for a living, and they will be good and won’t let a stone go unturned so you must be careful with everything.”

“If they look around the Opera house, you might want to disable some of your lair opening points.”

“They’re called pressure points, Giry. So we’ve got before the Opera covered, but what about during the Opera, what am I do to then?”

“I don’t know,” I said. We stood in silence, each of us brain storming a way to where he can go unnoticed.

“What if,” He said, his eyes lighting up behind the mask showing he has another one of his brilliant ideas, “I play the role on stage.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work. They’re going to notice when someone is missing and you’re in their place or that the part they’ve left empty has suddenly been filled.”

“Right, I guess I could hide up in the rafters.”

“And what about the stage hands,” Madame Giry added.

“Ugh, there has to be some way.” Minutes passed and nothing came to mind. It was clear that he wanted to be in the opera from the way his eyes lit up when he had the idea, even if he won’t admit it, so the best outcome is that he is in the opera at some point in time.

“I’ve got it.” I exclaimed, jumping a little. “You used to watch the practices and my debut show from the top of the room, why don’t you just do that.”

He stood there, slightly dumbfounded.

“Why didn’t I think of that, although, I don’t like being up there for too long, I get scared that I’m going to fall, but at least I have a good seat in the house.”

“You used to watch from the chandler?” Madame Giry asked.

“Yes, when the managers sat in my box.”

“Huh, well if it’s settled then I’ll leave you two to it.” Madame Giry left the room after saying her goodbyes. After Erik shut the door behind her, he turned back around to me, that same sparkle in his eyes as before.

“What if I just join the show at the very end? People will be invested in it, we’re not going to go the whole four hours with me in it, but I’ll still be able to star in my own opera.”

“Who will you fill in for?”

“Piangi, obviously,”

“And what happens to him,” He paused, just looking at me. “Erik no, I won’t let you murder-“

“Murder? Who said anything about murder? I am just going to temporally dispose of him. He’ll be fine once he wakes up.”

“And if something goes wrong in knocking him out.”

“Well then that’s his own damn fault Christine,” He took the two strides that separated us, grabbing both my hands and sandwiching them in his. “I really want to star in this opera, and no manager is going to stand in my way, then neither is that tone deft man.”

“Fine, Erik, I trust you, but just please be safe about it, I don’t want to see you getting hurt, or arrested or-“ The last word caught in my throat, so I tried again. “-or killed”

“I’ll be fine Christine” He raised my hands up to his lips, kissing them. I could feel where his lips started to get swollen and it comforted me, if only for a second. I leaned into him and he bear hugged me. “I promise.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soo sorry this came up so late. I was going to do it Friday, but then I got side tracked and didn't have my tablet with the word document on it all weekend so I had to wait till I got home. Super sorry
> 
> Any grammar or spelling, don't be afraid to tell.


	30. Chapter 30

After the Opera finished, rehearsals started for Don Juan. People were eerie, they didn't want to mess anything up because now they know that Phantom is real and rumors of the things he's done have arisen. The managers are only expecting this practices to take up two weeks because Erik spelled everything out for them, including the choreography, were just taking that and translating it to body movement. Piangi and the Chorus are having trouble reading the music, also it doesn't help the Piangi is a worse singer than Carlotta. She at least has control over the pitch of her voice, no matter the shrill of it, he can't even find the notes or place the rhythm. I see why Erik wants to replace him. I already have all of the music down to a science because Erik has been teaching it to me. Every day I come home from practices, I think I'm done, but then I right back up for lessons with Erik which are the most tiring thing ever. He is a perfectionist, and I am tired, but if I don't give my all, we will spend hours in there until I do. I've tried to get out of it, using every distraction possible, but he stands strong, that man has a will of iron. However, after the lesson is over, I have the song perfect, he gives me a nice cup of tea and dinner, and he turns back into a human less than a mindless music monster.

"Alright Christine, that's it for today."

"Thank god." I collapsed, leaning my weight against the piano, "Erik, I still feel sick."

"Still, I thought you were just saying that to get out of lessons again." I glared at him from the piano. "Right, let's get the corset off, it's constricting your breathing, maybe it will help." He rushed over to me, pushing aside my first layers and untying the corset. Immediately I let out a sigh of relief and sucked in all the air I could. It hung limply around my chest, still held there by my dress, but it still felt many times better. I stood up, and made my way to the armchair in the corner, sitting down, closing my eyes a focusing my breathing, trying to calm my stomach down.

"It's probably just stress Christine," He said, kneeling in front of my legs and taking my hands into his. "I've been pushing you too hard after you've had practice all day, that's not fair to you. You sound amazing, better than amazing."

"You just said I sounded worse than La Carlotta."

"I was trying to push you harder."

"It only made me feel worse."

"I'm sorry." He stood up, pulling me with him, letting me lean on my weight on him. "You should go change out of these clothes, I'll go get you some tea."

"And food?" I asked, giving him puppy eyes, assuring I was going to get food.

"Yes and food." He let me go and I walked into my room, closing the curtain behind me. I pulled the dress and the untied corset off, but when I went to grab my nightgown, something caught my eye in the mirror. I turned back in a flash looking in the mirror at my stomach. There was slight bruising going across where the corset came in at the top of my hips and bruising in the form of the bottom of my corset. I rubbed my stomach, looking down, noticing it's not sore, and the bruising will probably go away in a day, but it's still worrying.

I put to corset on looser this morning because I felt sick, and the fact that it’s bruising means it's still tight. I shook it out of my head, not wanting to worry Erik anymore. I know he already has my costume made, and if I'm gaining weight, he's going to put me on a diet and make me exercise to get me down. I'm not even sure how I'm gaining weight since I've been feeling sick lately and not eating as much, at least in the morning.

I threw the nightgown on, taking everything covering my legs off and wrapping the robe around my body, heading out for dinner.

The second I opened the curtain, my stomach growled, despite it still hurting. I headed down the stairs ready to devour what's on the stove.

"I'm making soup, it's supposed to help an upset stomach," Erik said, glancing at me.

“What kind of soup,”

“Not sure, I just cut up some vegetables and put them in the pot, threw in some water and some spice. If there’s one thing I’m not good at, it’s cooking.”

‘Really I thought you were good at everything.”

“Yes, everything but cooking.”

“Well it smells delicious, so maybe you’re better than you thought,” I said walking up next to him and smelling the pot to prove my point.

“How do you feel?” He asked, continuing to stir the pot.

“A little bit better now that I no longer have those tight clothes on.”

The teapot screamed, and I walked around him to get it and pour us both a cup.

“I have no clue how much longer to leave this on for.” He said as I was setting them both on the table.

“Just do until everything is cooked, they’re just vegetables, it’s not like eating them warm is going to kill us if it’s raw. You really can’t cook can you?”

“No,” He looked distressed at what to do.

“Move then, I’ll finish dinner.”

“What, no, I’m supposed to be doing this for you. You’re sick, sit down.” Erik pointed to the chair with the spoon in his hand, but I stood in front of him like a stone wall.

“Erik I’m fine now, sure there’s still a little discomfort, but I can stand and stir a pot with no difficulty.” He looked at me for a second before handing me the spoon and walking away.

I dipped the spoon in the bowl and scooped some broth out, carefully slurping it. It tasted delicious, which floored me considering the fact he just threw some things into the pot and called it soup. I pushed down on one of the sliced of potatoes in the bowl, and it squished under the spoon, telling me it’s probably done. I pulled the pot off the heat and placed it on the counter. I fiddled with the stove to try and get the heat to go down.

Erik hurried back into the kitchen, now in different clothes, and pulled two bowls out of one of the cabinets and a ladle. He scooped a hearty amount into each bowl and carried them to the table, not letting me do anything. I followed him, sitting down in my usual chair, him across from me.

I scooped some soup from my bowl and put it in my mouth, still angry at how good it tasted despite the fact he didn’t know what he was doing.

“So, I have a question, Christine,” Erik said while I was still chewing the vegetable, I nodded at him to go on. “Can a woman bruise if they’re wearing their corset to tight?” I choked on the food in my mouth as I was swallowing it, knowing where this conversation was going.

Though what I want to know is how he knows. I know he didn’t see me without the dress on, and I know he can’t see through it. If he could, he would be blushing like a madman, he always does.

“How did you-“

“We share scars Christine, or as some would say, we ‘share skin.’ Therefore, I can see any scars you have past or present,” he said annunciating the last word, “And you can see any scars I have past or present. Why are you bruising Christine?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know. I am not eating any more than usual, actually if anything, I’m eating less than. I’ve been doing less exercise because I’m not in ballet, I’m just singing, but that shouldn’t be an issue. The corset was even looser than I usually make it because I was sick this morning.” I whined.

He nodded, looking down and taking a scoop of soup.

“I’ll just make some adjustments to the costume, then,” He said. I let out a sigh of relief, happy he wasn’t going to be hard on me and stress me out more than I already am. We continued eating in silence, it was slightly awkward, and so I started up a conversation.

“What are you going to do about the managers?”

“What do you mean?”

“They seem really confident in their plan to catch you, and you are just under their nose, literally. Plus they said they were going to hire authorities, how are you going to be on stage and avoid them, it just doesn’t seem possible to me.”

“Shh,”

“Excuse me?” I said, offended. He shushed me again, than sat in silence like he was thinking hard about something.

“Get in the kitchen.” He said standing up, running around the table and pushing me slightly into the kitchen.

“Erik what’s wrong.”

“Stay,”

“Erik I am not some dog,” I said as he was walking away, starting to hide in the corner of the room, pulling my nightgown tighter.

There was a long bout of silence, then a lot of commotion, and finally footsteps coming near me. I pushed myself further into the corner, reaching into the drawer in front of me and grabbing the sharpest thing out of it in case it happens to not be Erik.

A black figure rounded around the corner and I relaxed, knowing that no other person has a shadow like that, and with him was Nadir being dragged along by the ear.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Erik said sarcastically. I put the tongs down on the counter and walked over as Erik pulled a chair over angrily for Nadir.

“A pleasure running into you like this.” I smiled at him.

“And you, Christine.” He turned to Erik, “See, now that’s how you treat your guests Erik, you should take notes.”

“I don’t like unexpected guests, you should know that.”

“How are you Nadir?”

“I’m fine,” He turned to Erik again. “Seriously, how are you two soulmates?”

“Out with it, Nadir, why are you here?” He looks like he has a headache.

“I heard they are putting on your opera.”

“Yes, and?’

“And they’re using it as a ploy to catch you. I’m here to help you.”

“Really, you’re here to help me?” Erik said like he couldn’t believe it.   
“Yes, you’re not hurting anyone, so-“ He paused, looking at both of us, “You’re not hurting anyone right?”

“No,” We both said at the same time.

“Okay, so you’re causing a bit of ruckus, but I don’t think you’d survive or strive anywhere else as well as you do here.” He explained.

“I think I’ll be fine without your help, it’s not like I’m in trouble.” That’s such a blatant lie, it’s been published that he’s in trouble, unless he really doesn’t think so.

“Except you are.” Nadir corrected him. “I was recently approached and asked if I would like to help in the search for the Phantom of the Opera. It seems the cops want my help in catching you.” Erik and I stared at each other, me in terror, and him in boredom.

“Why am I more worried about this than you are,” I asked him in anger.

“Because, the man they asked for help is sitting in front of us now, offering his help.”

“Okay, and? They obviously know enough about you to know that he knows you, does that not worry you that there can be more that they know. Plus, who is telling them this.”

“That doesn’t matter, I’ll find out who the leak is, and put an end to it. Maybe they just know of his past, that he was a cop.” He reasoned.

“They never did mention that fact that I know you,” He replied.   
“See Christine, there’s nothing to be worried about,”

“I’m trying to make sure you’re safe Erik.”

“I’m fine,”

“You’re-“ I started but was cut off by Nadir.

“I was just saying that I could, maybe lead them in a different direction.” I glared at the Daroga because this fight isn’t over. He needs to care more for himself, it’s not fair for him to leave me alone.

“That would be lovely Daroga,” Erik said standing up and heading towards Nadir, most likely to lead him out of the house. “It was wonderful having you, but it seems you’ve extended your stay.”

I stood up, following them out to presumably where Nadir came in.

“Remember Erik, I’m the only thing standing in between you and the law, you best behave.”

“Not the only thing Daroga, and you best not forget that.”

They had a stare down before I broke it.

“A pleasure, hope you come back.”

“I don’t,” Erik said as he closed the hole in the wall.

“I didn’t know that was there,” I said turning away and heading back to finish dinner.

“I have many exits hidden around this house, all leading to different places. It would take forever to show you them all and teach you all the routes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted it on time this week, so proud of myself.   
> Any spelling or grammar error feel free to share.


	31. Chapter 31

It was two weeks until show day and the stress is real. I’m spending my days memorizing movements, where to go, what to do, and spending my nights memorizing music. My part is hard but doable, he wrote it just for me, and apparently, he knows my voice very well. It would probably be impossible if I didn’t have him teaching it to me, but luckily I do. Things get complicated when the vocal director wants me to sing it one way, but I know Erik wants it another. I just do what I’m told, but keep reverting back to my old ways.  

Currently, I’m sitting in the middle of the auditorium, slouched down in the chair, head against the back of it, watching the people struggle on stage. I had excused myself about ten minutes ago with a headache, and things haven’t gotten much better. My corset feels tight and constricting, it’s where I usually put it, and their singing is making the headache worse. It’s only an hour into practice.

They dismissed for a five-minute break for them to rest their voices and get some water, and so Madame Giry walked over to me. She squeezed past my form and into the seat next to me.

“Have you feel feeling okay lately?” She questioned.

“No, I feel like crap, I have a huge headache, although, my stomach aches have gone away. Erik keeps saying its stress, and there’s no other explanation, so he’s probably right as always. He said that when I got used to the schedule it will become better, but a week has passed and it’s only gotten a little better. I don’t see the point, once we finish this opera, it’s a week of performances and then three months of break. I just can’t wait for it all to be over.”

“If you really don’t feel well then why are you here?”

“Because it’s Erik’s Opera, not only am I his soulmate, if it’s not perfect, who knows what will happen.”

“I don’t truly think that he’s going to harm everyone in the area if the Opera goes the slightest wrong, and if he’s got his mind and heart in the right place, then he’ll understand if you miss one or two days.”

“I guess you’re right, but I’m going to tough it through when the break is over, I’ll join back in.”

“Well, let me get you something to help with your headache, it’s just some tea, nothing strong.”

“Thank you Madame Giry.” I let her get past, resting for the remaining three minutes before gathering my barring’s and heading up to the stage. When I stepped up there, Madame Giry came rushing at me, handing me a cup of tea.

I drank it, savoring the minty taste it gave off, handing the cup back to her. We started to practice again and I waited for the pain to release.

 

The medicine worked for about half an hour, but then the effects stopped, however, the headache is not as bad as it was. I think I need more sleep, more water, and less practice. My performance is good, it just has no energy in it, or at least that's what the director told me.

It's currently lunch break and all I want to do is take a nap. I have my food, Erik packed me some of the leftovers we had last night, but the trick is finding peace and quiet. I can't go to my room because than Erik will come in and pester me about how it's going from an actress’s point of view.

"Christine, come with," Meg said running past me, grabbing my arm and dragging me along with her. I had a hard time keeping up, but I couldn't stop or else I would trip, therefore we just keep going, me stumbling along behind her. She stopped at our secret closet full of music and we went inside. I checked to make sure that my lunch was still intact because I was hungry after a morning full of practice. “You’ll never guess what happened?” I could tell she was excited so I tried to get excited, using my acting skills.

“What?” She showed me her hand, and on her ring finger, was a ring.

“Oh my god,” I said grabbing her hand, the excitement real for her, “This thing is huge.”

“I know,” She squealed. “We got engaged last week, right after the masquerade ball.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you, I wish that Erik would put one on my finger, but I guess I’ll have to live through your engagement until. So, when’s the big day?”

“We don’t know yet,” She said sitting on the floor, digging into her food, I followed her lead, my stomach growling at the thought of food. “We haven’t even told his parents yet.”

“What, his parent’s don’t know?”

“No, he doesn’t think they’ll accept the relationship because I’m a ballet dancer.”

“But you’re his soulmate, it shouldn’t matter what you do for a living.”

“Yes, but his parents always wanted him to marry some viscountess from the middle of who knows where, or at least that’s the impression he’s under. He’s nervous.”

“I don’t think they’ll have a problem, and I mean, you’ll never know until you try.”

“Yes, but I want to bask in the thrill of engagement for a while before he tells his parents.”

“I get that,”

“Also, I haven’t told my mother yet.” I choked on my food.

“Are you kidding me, Meg, do you have a death sentence?

“I know, I know, it’s just really hard to bring up in a casual conversation,”

“Uh, how about, ‘hey Mom, you know, Raoul is really great, and you know what’s even better about him, he wants to marry me’ boom done,”

“I don’t know, I think she’s going to flip,”

“She’s going to flip when she sees that giant rock on your hand.”

“She just doesn’t seem that interested in my relationship with him.”

“I wish she was that way with mine. I really wish she would stop worrying about me and Erik, but no because of his homicidal tendencies, I’m in danger. I’m not even her blood daughter, you are.”

“You’re right, you keep her.”

“What, Meg-?”

“Not because of the homicidal tendencies, because I don’t want her constantly sticking nose in my relationship.”

“Right,” I said, unbelieving. 

* * *

 

After practice was over, it was about seven o’clock. I was starving and all I wanted was sleep. I sluggishly made my way back to my room, plopping down on the bed when I got inside. Reaching behind my back, I struggled to untie the corset and eventually gave up. Once feeling returned to my feet and I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out where I was standing, I started to make my way down.

Erik told me he wouldn’t be here to escort me down tonight, but I know the way so it’s not that big a deal. He also showed me a different way where I don’t have to row a boat and find the little button at the bottom of the lake that opens the gate, and though it’s slightly longer, I figured it would save time in the long run.

I was lonely and bored, but no coherent thoughts were running through my head because of how exhausted I was. We ran the Opera about fifty million times, and I’m quite sick of it. If Erik makes me sing any more of it, I might actually flip my lid on that man. I just want to peace and quiet where I don’t hear Carlotta screaming her lungs out, Piangi’s tone-deaf singing, or the pounding of Madame Giry’s walking stick on the ground. Which by the way is completely useless to her other than to get the attention of people around her. I don’t understand why she carries it other than that.

Finally, I made it down to our house, I love saying it’s our house, it makes me feel all giddy inside, and absent-mindedly made my way to my room to get changed. I struggled a bit more with the corset, it being a prop one and making it so much harder to use. I changed out of the top layer of my costume when we were done rehearsal, but the stockings and corset and everything else stayed on. I was ready to get out of there. Everything came off and a simple, yet pretty nightgown went on over top.

I realized, after my stomach started growling, that I don’t smell any dinner, so I went out to investigate. I know Erik said he had different engagements, but when this happened before, he at least made dinner before he left, then when he came back, he would make me sing, then we would go straight to bed since ‘you had free time between the time you got home, and the time I got home.’

When I opened the curtain and saw what was below, I understood. On the ground were a bunch of rose petals leading to a wall, a single rose petal on the wall, presumably telling me where to press to get it to open. However, there were also red roses with stems lining a whole lot of the room. The room still looked a little drab because of all of the black rose petals on the floor, but it was nice. They were the signature flower he would give to me when I finished a performance, even recitals when I was little, there would always be a single black flower with a white ribbon tied to it, knowing I would get one if I did good really motivated me. However, thinking about it now, he probably gave one to me for each performance no matter if it was good or not because I was young and he has high standards. 

I leaned on the railing in front of me for balance, because I was completely caught off guard. I didn’t even see it walking in here, I just completely ignored it. I could see from here, a note lying on the counter in the kitchen, and made my way down the stairs and over to get it.

_The roses will lead you to where you should be._

_P.S. bring a jacket, it might be cold._

I love him. 

I quickly went into my room and threw on some heavier clothes so that I wouldn't freeze where I'm going, and grabbed a jacket to spare. I walked to the wall where the black petals lead to and push the petal on the wall. I waited as the petal fell to the ground for something to happen, but nothing did. Eventually, I just started running my hand against the wall hoping to press it somehow, and it worked. The wall pushed back, then rolled behind itself, revealing a staircase covered in darkness and rose petals.

I quickly got an oil lamp and lit it to give me light to walk the path. The staircase just kept climbing, but there were still areas the lead off to different places. At some points, it turned, well rounded, but I wouldn’t consider it a spiral staircase. I was a little put off that he didn’t light any candles, which would have been so much more efficient. The black rose petals are really hard to see in the dim lighting. However, he probably would have come up with a stupid excuse like ‘candles are hard to come by’ which is a lie because I have seen that man reuse a candle over and over again, he just melts the middle of the collected melted candle and sticks the wick inside.

As I was climbing, it started to get colder, and even holding the heat in my hand, they were still turning numb. Erik said to bring a jacket, not an entire winter outfit. I stopped at the fork in the road, inspecting where the flower petals go. I was hoping it was to the straight hall, but they just kept climbing, I sighed and went on, not prepared for this. I have been standing for like twelve hours, and I don’t need this right now. After another minute of climbing, my legs were sore, but when I looked up, I saw a door. I put some pep in my step, know that this is the end because the building isn’t that tall, it’s just I had to climb from the sewers to the top of the building and I was taking a long time and a lot of motivation to put my leg another step up.

I opened the door and the cold breeze hit my face. When I opened my eyes, the moonlight lit up the beautiful scene before me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah, cliff hanger. 
> 
> Grammar or spelling mistakes, Please feel free to share.


	32. Chapter 32

Erik was walking towards me with his hand outstretched, helping me out of stairway and down to the roof. It was slanted, as it was a roof, but walkable, especially with the help of Erik. All around us was the rooftop, it stretched up to different heights, both with a triangular shape, and the circular shape. We climbed the narrow rooftop and over to a ledge all without saying a word. His hand was warm in mine, even though his leather gloves. I could feel the chill of the wind blowing my hair, but all I was focused on was not falling. We walked the length of the ledge until there was a stairway leading narrowly up the rooftop opposite us.

He jumped down off the ledge with grace before turning around and holding his arms out as if to say he would catch me. I chuckled at him before sitting down on the ledge and slowly scooting my way off of it. He grabbed me by the wait eventually, hauling me off and into his arms, holding me there for a second staring deeply into my eyes with his golden ones before putting me down, grabbing my hand, and continuing on with the journey.

Those stairs led us to another ledge which we walked across before we hit a wall. That wall was the foundation of what is the highest point on the opera house, I could tell because of both the height and the gargoyle heads all around it. Erik grabbed onto the rope that was dangling from the top with one hand, his other going around my waist.

I pushed away from him.

“Okay, up until this point has been romantic. A stroll across the rooftop, able to see all of Paris, beautiful, except I wasn’t really looking because I had to look down, afraid of my clumsiness.”

“You’re not that clumsy.”

“I am. But continuing, I have to draw the line somewhere, and you pulling me up a rope with one hand is where that line is.”

“I’ve done this with no rope before Christine, how do you think the rope got up there in the first place. You have to have a little faith.”

“I have faith, I also have my life to look out for.”

“You’ll be fine just close your eyes and it will all be over soon.” I sighed, complying with him only because he spent all day, probably, putting this together for me, I can suffer for five seconds.

“Thank you,” He said, replacing his arm around my waist. “Now hold on tight, if I were you, I’d wrap my hands around my neck.” I did what he said again, still not opening my eyes. Soon, I was lifted off the ground, a relief on my feet, but giving me extreme anxiety. I tried not to think about what was going on, but that was impossible when we were swaying back and forth. After about a minute, Erik placed my but on a solid, flat surface, and I let out a sigh of relief. I opened my eyes, looking down at him from above. He looks utterly handsome, the face I fell in love in, but a mask covering it. It took me a second to notice that he was struggling before I gave him space to pull himself up, knowing full well I didn’t have the strength myself to do it.

I stood up, this time offering him a hand to help him up also before turning around and actually looking at the view. The streets of Pairs were laid out before me, and though I haven’t visited even a quarter of them, I still feel like I knew them all. I walked around the diameter of the circle, looking at all the sights around me, entranced by them. Eventually, I came back around to Erik, who stood smiling at me. I reached up for his mask, and he closed his eyes as I pulled it off his head, the string messing with his hair a little bit, but it fell back into place. I force him to take it off around the house, and though the skin is sensitive underneath, I can tell it’s a relief to get that itchy thing off his face. He opened his golden eyes and smiled at me once more.

“You look beautiful when you’re amazed.” He said, referring to my reaction with the view around us.

“I should think I look beautiful all the time.” I joked with him.

“Of course you do.” He stepped away, showing me a little picnic behind him, a black bouquet in the center of it all.

“You do know there’s nothing wrong with red roses, actually, it’s easier to find them that way,” I said sitting down. He followed suit, bringing the basket with him.

“Yes, but easy isn’t doesn’t show you how much I love you.” He leaned over and kissed me, but when he pulled away, he left a sandwich in his wake.

“Erik you know how to make a girl fall in love,” I said, taking the sandwich out of his hand and unwrapping it. I looked out over the city, taking a bite of the sandwich. It scared me to be this high off the ground, but I know I won’t fall, Erik won’t let me, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself to remain calm.

I could feel him staring at me, but I’m not going to say anything because I know he’ll say something corny like, ‘you’re more beautiful than the view,’ and I’m not walking into that trap. We finished our food, only the sounds of the city around us. I crumpled up the wrapping, throwing it in the basket and resting my head on his shoulder.

“I’m still afraid of heights,” I whispered to him.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time a plan a romantic date,” he chuckled, letting me know that he wasn’t offended.

We kept talking, just small talk about the people down below. It was fun judging them when they didn’t know we were there. We even saw a bird steal bread from someone that was a sight. Soon, the sun was behind us, and the night sky was out, it couldn’t have been past nine.

“Come, Erik, I have somewhere to show you,” I said, standing up on the ledge, but leaning on the wall next to me waiting for Erik to stand himself.

“Where to Christine,” He asked, grabbing the blanket and folding it, putting it in the basket before handing the basket to me.

“A surprise,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck my legs around his waist, holding on for dear life and shutting my eyes tight before feeling us fall from the ground. We made the slow descent down, which was actually quicker than the slow descent up. Soon his feet were placed soundly on the ground and I let go of my bear hug. I switched the basket to one hand, grabbing his hand in my other before he could pry the basket out of my hand. He sighed in defeat before leading us back to the stairway where I came from.

We didn’t climb all the way down, we broke off and went straight at one point, shocking me, but I followed where he went, it was obvious that with one wrong turn, I could get lost between the walls of the opera house. He led us to my room, we came out behind the mirror, and he grabbed the basket out of my hand, placing it on my vanity before tuning to me.

“Your turn to lead the way miss Daae,”

“Gladly,” I said, making my way towards the door.

“Wait,” He said, I turned around as he placed the mask back on his face. “We’re going through the opera house?”

“Well, yes, it would be quicker than going all the way down and back up again.”

“Christine, there are now rumors flying around that you are with the Opera ghost, and seeing a mysterious man with you who they saw leave but never enter the building will just add oil to that flame.”

“Alright fine, how do you suggest we get out then?” I cocked my hip out, placing my hand on it and sassing him.

“I’m The Opera Ghost, and hallways lead everywhere, we can make outside without going downstairs.”

“Okay,” I said, following him back into the halls.

He lead us through many twists and turns, some echoed from movement outside of them, others were silent, only our footfalls making noises. There were also levers and buttons on the floor of the hallways, presumably locking mechanics to that he can spy through the wall. Eventually, we made it outside, it was around back, but that was better because this is always the way I went to visit my father.

I took his hand, over exaggerating swinging the back and forth, but I was trying to put him in a better mood. I could tell that he was dreading going outside because it scares him to think of how people will react to the mask, and if not his mask, then his face. It was hidden behind a hood that I didn’t even know he had in his cape, but he was still feeling anxious.

That walk wasn’t that long, and there was barely anyone on the streets, especially where we’re headed to.   

* * *

 

I knew where Christine was taking me, I have followed her on this route many times before, especially ever since the incident when she was about thirteen. However, I was surprised that she would actually want me to meet her father. My face is gross and my backstory is even worse, so what does she get out of it. I know I’m her soulmate, but I feel like she’s just doing it because she feels like she has to.

“Are you sure you want this,” I said to the ground as she was swinging our hands back and forth obnoxiously. 

“Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t want you to feel forced because I did something nice for you.” She stopped us right in the middle of the sidewalk, stepping into my point of view, easy for her since she a head or so shorter than me.

“I want to do this because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. This isn’t going to be the last time you talk to my father either, so get used to it because I love you and am never going to let you go.”

“Alright,” I nodded. We continued on, now walking the perimeter of the cemetery gates before reaching the opening to go in. There were so many tombstones, I had to watch my step, making sure I didn’t trip over one, even though I’m very sure-footed, I’m nervous and don’t want to make a fool of myself. This is pretty much the equivalent of walking up the steps to his house and if I trip here, the jokes won’t ever end.

I don’t know why I’m so worked up, this is a dead man we’re talking about. I’ve seen him a few times before he died and though he’s a good musician, he’s also dead, so why all the anxiety.

Because this isn’t just any dead man, this is the dead father to your soulmate.

Why are relationships so complicated?

Finally, we stopped in front of his tombstone. It was simple since she didn’t have a lot of money for him. It was set into the ground, his name written on it and the years he lived under it. In writing it read,

_A loving father and great musician whose memory will be lost in time, but his music will speak forever._

And next to that, a carving of a violin.

Christine looked down at it in adoration and I pulled her into my chest in a comforting effort. I’m still getting used to the whole touching and sensitive emotion thing, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.

She took a breath before ducking out of my arms and kneeling in front of the tombstone.

“Hello father, I know it’s been a while, but I’ve just been so busy. That should never be an excuse, but it’s true. I was lead in the previous opera and will be lead in the upcoming opera, which my soulmate wrote,” She smiled back at before turning around again. “Things have been going well with him now, we’re no longer fighting. Madame Giry had faith that we would pull it together, though I’m still conflicted about her thoughts on the relationship because some days she just wants us to be happy, but other’s she wants to tear us apart. She’ll figure it out at some point. But yeah, everything has been going well since the masquerade ball which was about two weeks ago, maybe three. I just came here to introduce you to Erik, my soulmate, I’ve talked about him tons, but never brought him to meet you.” She stood up and pushed me towards the tombstone, making a gesture to talk.

I’m not actually sure how this works. She was talking to the actual stone, which is ridiculous because she was kneeling where his body would be.

“Hello,” I said awkwardly. She chuckled at me before excusing herself, saying she had to go get flowers, but leaving me alone so I felt less foolish. I took a breath before continuing on. “I’m glad she brought me to meet you. I didn’t know who to ask, Madame Giry or you, which would be foolish because you can’t answer back, but here I am. I wanted to ask for your blessing.” Nothing happened, as I was expecting and I sighed, not feeling any less foolish than I did before. A gust of wind blew past me and I turned my head away, and apparently towards Christine where she was inspecting flowers.

She looked so beautiful, silent and serene, and I knew I wanted to spend my life with her. I turned back to the tombstone, finally understanding how it all works.

Christine did a cute little skip jog to get back, placing the flowers on his grave before grabbing around my waist under my jacket, shivering.

“Let’s get you home before you get sick.”

 

We walked inside, a long day making us both tired and ready to go to sleep instantly. Christine made a B-line to the stairs, going upstairs to get changed out of her gown, where I walked into the kitchen to clean out the basket from dinner so I could return it to who I stole it from. They probably won’t even notice it went missing.

“Erik, hurry up,” Christine shouted from the room.

“I’ll be right up,” I shouted back, throwing away the napkins that I wrapped the sandwiches in and placing the jug of water into the sink. I walked into my room, changing out of my tight and uncomfortable clothes and into a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants. I walked into the other room and Christine urged me into bed with her.

I’m always hesitant to go with her, not wanting to overstep any boundaries she has, but each time she’s okay with it.

After I was under the covers, Christine moved closer to me, cuddling under my arm and practically wrapping herself around me. She placed her one hand on my chest, tracing the scars that lined it. It was soothing and put me to sleep, but not before I could whisper out my thoughts.

“I’m going to marry you one day,”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I this past week I went and saw Love Never Dies. For those of you who don't know (How?) It's like a sequel to Phantom of the Opera. The music that I had on my phone was pretty different from the music in the score and so the plot was a little different also, which means I didn't know half of what as going to happen, but that's the fun of it. Without any spoilers, I can tell you right now that Erik has Big Dick Energy. He practically kidnaps his protegee and her husband and child, and then when the two meet up again, and he meets the child, he literally holds the child on the railing of the room to look out over the city just to make sure that Christine had to stay there and sing for his show and not the person she was originally casted for. Erik is also way more dramatic than I remember, but the musical was still amazing and I highly suggest it. It 's not good, but it's amazing.


	33. Chapter 33

Another two weeks passed, and it’s coming up to our time to perform. It’s been about five, maybe six weeks since the masquerade ball and the opera is really starting to take shape. Erik scheduled six weeks of practice for us because he knew that it would be complicated and almost undoable. He also made sure that the Manager s wouldn’t go bankrupt so traveling companies have been coming in and out and not making the stress any better on me. It’s hard enough sneaking around when you know the people that are normally here, but sneaking around near people who are constantly lost is a whole other challenge in its self.

I’m constantly tired all the time right now, which is weird because Erik has been making me get nine hours of sleep, or about that. However, the Don Juan is getting easier to perform, though I’m still trying to pinpoint the spot where Erik is going to come in. It’s at the end, he told me that much, plus it wouldn’t make sense to do in the beginning when there are four hours left of it.

I’m thinking he’s going to come in in the scene after the awkward ‘sex’ scene. I only say it’s awkward because Piangi and I don’t like each other in the slightest, so the least amount of physical contact I have with that man the better. Therefore, from an audience's perspective, it probably looks like the worst scene in the world, but Erik hasn’t said anything about it being bad so it must look okay, or maybe he doesn’t want to get jealous.

Unless he’s going to somehow fix it, I can’t believe that I didn’t realize he’s going to come in during Point of No Return. It’s the most obvious scene for him to come into.

I placed my head in my hands, sitting on my bed in the room, disappointed in myself that I didn’t see that. Currently, I’m waiting for them to call me on for my scene since we’re doing a full run through, no costumes.

A knock sounded at my door, and I stood up, ready to go on. I opened it, shocked to see Madame Giry on the other side.

“May I,” She asked, gesturing to come in. I moved out of the way, letting her into my room.

“Where are they in the opera,” I asked, trying to see how long I have before I have to go on.

“Currently at a standstill in the second scene because of La Carlotta. I can assume it may be another half an hour.”

“Great,” I said, laying down on the bed.

“Are you okay Christine, do you have a fever or something, you seem to have been sick a lot these past few days.”

“No, I’m fine, just tired.”

“Are you sure, this has been going on for too long for you to pin it off on stress again, or that you haven’t been getting enough sleep. “

“Yeah, but there’s no other explanation,” I reasoned.

“I can think of one.”

I cracked my eye open and looked over to her, curious what that explanation is.

“You see Christine when I was pregnant with Meg I felt the same.”

“Whoa,” I said sitting up in shock when she said ‘pregnant’ “There’s no way I’m pregnant,’

“No way?” she asked, not believing me. I blushed, looking away because she caught me. Truly there should be nothing to be embarrassed about because it’s not like he’s a stranger I pulled off the streets, he is my soulmate, it’s just we’re not married yet. “When was the last time you had your menstrual cycle,”

“I’m on it now,”

“And how heavy is it compared to other times.”

“Very light, not that I’m complaining.”

“Right, this happened when I was pregnant with Meg. It’s not common but it happens for a woman to spot even when she’s pregnant, so this could just be more of a sign. Christine, I think you should go get checked.”

“Okay, even if I am,” I looked over to the mirror, anxious to say it out loud in fear of him listening in, though I don’t sense him, “you-know-what, wouldn’t it be too early at like, what, five, six weeks?”

“Six weeks?” Madame Giry exclaimed. “When did you start getting all tired and ‘stressed,” She said doing quotations with her hands, her cane still in the right one.

“I don’t know like two weeks ago,”

“Oh Christine,” She said, coming over and sitting next to me on the bed.

“I guess it makes sense. Erik made the dress fit me perfectly, he had my perfect measurement, but I started getting slightly bigger, he had to widen it around the bust and stomach. Now I know why, I thought I was gaining weight, which I guess technically I am. Also explains the morning sickness I been having the past week and the feeling of always being stressed.”

“Yes, well about last week is when your body will really start to recognize that you’re pregnant and start acting differently after this season is over, I wouldn’t start preparing for the next season.”

“Madame Giry, I can’t just not perform, I’m too young, and that’s not fair.”

“I know, but by the time the season starts up again, you’ll be showing and too big to perform.”

“Okay, I’ll just-“A knock sounded at the door, cutting me off mid-sentence.  

“Miss Daae, it’s almost time,” A stagehand said.

“Okay, I’ll be right out.” I stood up, collecting my thought and heading out the door.

“Everything will be okay Christine,” Madame Giry said as I shut it.

We went through the rest of the Opera without another hiccup, but went back and practiced the parts that are faltering. The managers were there, actually watching the Opera. All those two do is sponsor, the director or composer goes to them, asks them if they can do the Opera, and more likely than not, they’ll say yes. However, towards the end of the run, policemen starting filing into the auditorium, they were getting yelled at and disrupting our rehearsal, which is why we were let out early. They were practicing for the night of the show, where they’re going to stand, procedures for if he attacks the crowd if he does this, kills that. They were giving orders to shoot to kill, not helping the worry already running through my head.  After that, we were dismissed for the day, which was a bummer. I was using the practice as a distraction from what Madame Giry thinks.

Right now, I don’t know if she’s right, I could just be sick, but it would make sense that I was pregnant. However, I really don’t want her to be right. I’m eighteen and Erik just got me popular, yet all that hard work would go out the door if I was pregnant, though I guess I could go back after I had the baby. Questions are certain to arise, I haven’t actually announced that I have a soulmate, though I think people have assumed so, especially those that have heard the rumor that I’m with the Phantom.

That was spread by Piangi and anyone else that saw me with him the night of the ball. I guess that’s our fault for not being careful, but I was just so happy to have him back that I wasn’t thinking, and obviously he wasn’t either.

But if I were to go back, Erik would have to watch the child, though I know he won’t mind for it would be half his fault there is a child, but then he wouldn’t be able to watch the managers and that is what’s going to upset him. He doesn’t think they can run an Opera House by themselves, which he isn’t wrong, they probably only bought it from Lefevre because of the beauty of it. It’s both a tourist attraction and a local attraction. I live here and I’m still shocked at the beauty of it sometimes, though not at what’s backstage and that’s where I spend most to all of my time out of rehearsal time.

Plus, I don’t even know if Erik wants a child. Oh god, how do I even tell him, will he be mad, I don’t want to lose him again, it’s only been six weeks since we got back together.  I may not even be pregnant, I want to be sure before I go and tell him, I’m not going to get his hopes up for it not to be true, or for him to leave me for no reason.

I do want children, just not now, and I really hope that he wants children too. I want him to be happy, but I want to be happy also. It would, however, be better if I was pregnant, say, three-four years from now.

I made it back to my room and took the makeup off. I know Erik loves me because though the makeup has to exaggerate my facial feature for the people in the back, it’s not a lot of makeup and it uses my real hair, unlike Carlotta's character who he gave one of the biggest wigs. I took the dress off and placed it on the model then walked over to the mirror and wiped the makeup off my face. I watched as with each swipe of the wash rag, more of my natural skin came out. There were bags under my eyes and I looked very pale, but beneath all that was a shadow of what Erik looks like.

Looking at it like this, it is disgusting, and it’s even more so on him, but I won’t ever let him know that because I know he hates his face, and given word by me, he would wear that mask twenty-four-seven, but I don’t want him to. Sure I didn’t like seeing the bone underneath his thin layer of skin on his cheekbone or his sunken back eye, but now it doesn’t bother me. I touch my face, it was a little bumpy, but nothing compared to his. He is so sensitive on that side of his face, and even all over because he’s been denied a nice human touch for all of his life until I came along and showed him all the love he deserved.

He’s a nice, talented, amazing person, and I know if he wasn’t treated like he was in the past, he would have been famous in whatever he wanted. But people can’t look past his face and so he’s murdered and tortured tons of people and is isolated, living in the sewers of an Opera House.

I sighed, still wondering how Erik will react when I tell him what Madame Giry told me. There are so many reasons why he wouldn’t want children when you compare them to his reasons for having a child. Giving him a child would make it a reality that he and I are together and that I’m not leaving him, it would also give him someone for his talent to live on through. But he will probably worry that he’s not worthy because of all the things he’s done in his life, or worried that the disfiguration will be passed on.

Actually, he might not think that that’s just my worry. There are no physical consequences to not being with your soulmate, especially not if you procreate. At least no recorded findings have been done about it, I’ve read everything I could on if you’re not with your soulmate, and none have affected children made in a relationship with that. However, they do say that those relationships won’t last, and it will get worse the longer you stay with that person, eventually ending with a huge fight, each one ended differently, the worst case scenario ends in the death of one party.

It’s true that Erik’s parents might not have been soulmates, but that’s not why he has the face disfiguration, that’s just something his parents passed down to him, yet, I don’t have the guts to tell him, because then he’ll worry, just like I am, that the baby will be born like that.

However, there’s no way that it’s very common considering that his mother didn’t like the face, which is why he was given the mask and a terrible life.

He will probably worry about what will happen to me if I were to have the child. He’s probably heard of worse case scenarios about what women go through in childbirth, as have I, and though that scares me, he’ll worry about what happens if I die. I don’t really want to hear that.

I guess I should start small.

I looked up as the mirror slowly swung open and Erik stepped out.

“Are you ready?” He asked holding his hand out for mine.

“I think” I took his hand, standing up and walking with him down to our house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S UP ON TIME


	34. Chapter 34

“Erik come on, I’m not dragging you the whole way there. You have to work with me,”

“I specifically remember saying no to this idea,”

“And I specifically remember ignoring that,” I said, dragging him an inch more through the hallway to the back exit. “Come on, nobody is going to see you, we are going to get onto Caesar, ride over to Raoul and Meg's house, and have a good time, okay?”

“I insulted the boy, he doesn’t want me in his house.”

“You didn’t insult him to his face, plus he’s the one who suggested it, so I don’t think it will be a problem,” That was a lie, I asked Meg when she told me what she was doing, and she was ecstatic that she would get to meet him, I don’t actually know who Raoul feels about this, but I also don’t think he’s going to be rude.

“I still don’t know Christine,” I stopped pulling his arm in the direction of the door and looked at him.

“It’s going to be night and they live in the country, nobody is going to see us, Meg knows that you’re not confident in your face,” I said.

“That’s an understatement,” He whispered under his breath.

“So I don’t see what the problem is,” I said, ignoring his snarky comment.

“The problem is I’m not a sociable person.”

“Erik, you’re going to be fine, they’re not going to care,” I said pulling the hood of my cloak over my head.

“Fine,” He said following suit with his hood, mostly hiding his face. I was only able to see it because of the height difference. “But I’m not going to forget that you forced me to do this,”

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” I said walking away with him following me.

We finished the rest of the trip to the outside, seeing the stark white horse sitting there in his pen. I walked over to him, petting his mane as Erik finished getting the horse ready for riding. I always wonder what made him pick this horse. As such a dark man, I feel like he picked the white horse ironically.

After Erik climbed on, he helped me up onto the horse in front of him. He set off on course, which is weird because I never actually gave him directions, but he seemed to be going the right way. Once, we got out of the city, however, I did have to start giving him directions.

It was a fifteen, twenty-minute ride of Erik spooning me from behind while driving the horse and I almost fell asleep. Maybe Madame Giry’s right, maybe I am pregnant because I am enjoying this a lot more than I should.

Finally, we pulled up to the house. I knew which one was theirs because Meg was standing outside waving at us when we rounded around the trees. We entered in the opening in the gate and Erik slowed Caesar down into a spot where he can stay safe. He then hopped down and helped me down after him, tying the horse securely, but making sure he had enough water and food.

I grabbed Erik’s hand once he was done with that and we walked up to the front door together. I knocked on the door which was stupid because Meg just saw us pull up, but we played along with it. The door opened with a jumpy, smiley Meg and Raoul who looked like he thought this was just another dinner party.

“Welcome to our humble abode, may we take your coats,” Meg said foolishly, reaching her hand out for us to drape out coats on.

“Yes you may,” I joked along with her, both of us making fun of the upper class, which I guess she is now.

“A pleasure,” Raoul said, sticking his hand out to Erik to shake it. Erik hesitated for a moment before grasping his hand and doing one simple shake before letting go.

“Meg you know getting the coats is what a butler is for,” Raoul said to her as we started walking away from the door, she had our coats and showing us to the main sitting area.

“Yes, but Raoul do you see one here?” She replied back starkly. She turned back to us once we reached the room. “Please have a seat, make yourselves comfortable, we’ll be right out.”

They both left the room and I sat down on one of the couches, looking at Erik who looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. For neither of them not ever seeing him before, they definitely kept their reactions on the down low. He does have his mask on and I don’t think he’ll be taking it off at any point tonight, but that doesn’t take away from the shock of it.

There was a crash somewhere in the other room and I got nervous for a second because I didn’t actually tell Erik the real reason for coming over. He believes it’s a dinner party, but I made sure, specifically not to say anything of the sort, I just let him believe what he wanted, but the real reason we’re over here is to see how Erik reacts around kids.

Raoul’s brother has a child, two years old, and needed someone to watch it for the night. Since its only 6 o’clock on a Saturday night, I figured that everything lined up perfectly. We don’t have practice tomorrow, I want to test Erik, and Meg had to babysit. All we had to do between the four of us is put the child to sleep and wake him up in the morning. I just want to see if Erik can do it.

Raoul came walking out with the child in his arms, Meg behind him distracting the child. I told Meg and Raoul that Erik won’t know there was a child he will be watching. We are going to be fed, just we’ll have a challenge first. As soon as the child was in view, Erik tensed up.

“Christine, what is this,” Erik said, standing up and moving towards to corner of the room.

“Erik, come on, it’s not so bad, and they just needed help,”

“I take everything about what I said before, you are a terrific liar, but an evil one.”

“I didn’t technically lie, Erik, I just let you believe what you wanted.” He stared at me in shock, and the three behind us were silent before little stomping sounded and the little boy came running into view, towards Erik, who hid more into the corner.

I went after the kid, as to not scar Erik for life, but so far, this isn’t boding well for our future. I picked the child up in my arms and looked at him. He had the same long blond hair as Raoul but green eyes, however, there was no doubt that they are related somehow. Their genes must be strong.

The child laughed and tugged at my curls, it hurt a little and I knew if I didn’t stop him now, he would continue to do that through the night.

“His name is George, and more importantly, he’s mostly bathroom trained.”

“Mostly is better than not at all,” I said under my breath, smiling at the child in my arms, him giggling back. George kicked his legs and so I put him down on the ground and he went running. “Are you sure we’re going to be able to get him down, he seems to have a lot of energy” I worried.

“Yeah, we just have to tire him down, it shouldn’t be that hard, there’s four of us and one of him.”

“Three of you, and one of him,” Erik said. I looked over at him. He looked small, hiding in the corner, I did feel a little bad, but he is going to love this child by the end of the night, I swear.

I did a quick hand gesture at Meg and Raoul, telling them to give us some space and so they went after George. After they left, Erik visibly relaxed.

“Are you okay, I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to, but I also want to push your boundaries,”

“I’m fine,”

“You’re not fine, you’re afraid of both the child and the other two.”

“I’m not afraid of the child, I’m going to give the child a nightmare.” I stared at him in astonishment, unbelieving of what he was saying.

“Erik, the kid thinks you’re a teddy bear, he ran up to you, you shouldn’t be scared of him.” I reasoned. I walked over to him, grabbing his hand and holding it in both of mine, “Just try okay, you’ll be surprised.” I smiled at him.

After about five seconds screaming came from the other room. We both jumped from the sudden noise and ran into the other room.

Raoul and Meg were sitting on the floor trying to calm down the screaming baby, who was laying on the floor in between the both of them, throwing a tantrum.

“What happened?” Erik asked.

“We were just trying to get him in his PJ’s but apparently he doesn’t like that.”

“What time is he supposed to go to bed?”

“6:30”

“Alright, well then put his pajamas on and put him to bed,” Erik said like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“That’s the problem when we touch him he kicks, he doesn’t want to go to sleep obviously.” Meg and Raoul looked absolutely defeated, and it scared me. They’ve been taking care of George the whole day long, one day, and if we have a child, this will be a twenty-four-seven thing.

Erik sighed, walking over and picking George up like he was a feather and grabbed his Pj’s out of Raoul’s hand, then went over to change him. By the time George was changed, he had stopped crying, which was insane because Erik didn’t talk to him, or at least not that we heard. When he was done, he picked the child up, holding him like a baby this time, and by our surprise, the baby was smiling, as well as Erik.

Well, I say Erik was smiling, but it was only noticeable by me, who spends all of my time with him, anyone else would probably see it as a grimace because of the mask. Meg walked over, thanking him and taking the child from him, amazement was written across her face, but once Erik let George go, he started screaming bloody murder again. Meg instantly thrust George back into Erik’s arms and he stopped crying as she walked away, making it his problem.

“That is an absolute miracle,” Raoul said. I walked over to Erik, a kind smile on my face and kissed him on his cheek.

“See,” I whispered, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I wasn’t afraid of anything, I was simply worried that he’d be afraid of me.”

“Well, he’s obviously not.” George giggled again and tugged on my hair, I smile at him a removed it from his hand.

“Since you two seem to have him all figured out, we will go cook dinner,” Raoul said, making a quick escape, probably from the child, but I don’t know. 

* * *

 

I picked the child up and brought him over to a table to change him on. He was still crying, but has gotten quieter and is slowly starting to stop. I gently placed George on the table so I could change him.

“Hello,’ I smiled, still afraid that I was going to scare him. What if my mask fell off, what if he sees under it, he decides I am actually terrifying. These worries kept floating through my head as I was changing him, but none of those things happened. I just kept smiling and whispering to get him to keep quiet and he did. However, I don’t know what kind of contraption the clothes they put him in, they were like torture for me. I barely understood how it worked, and after I finally popped the last button into the correct place, and making sure that it actually was the right place, I picked him up and turned around to the three stunned people behind me.

I kept smiling, but only Christine noticed and she smiled back at me. Meg walked over, saying thank you as she took the baby from me which shocked me because she willing approached me without hesitation, and her hand even brushed mine and she didn’t pull away. Though the second Gorge left my arms, he started screaming again, and Meg instantly placed him back in my arms, almost making me drop him, but thanks to my reaction time, he stayed safe in my arms and stopped crying.

“That is an absolute miracle,” Raoul whispered under his breath. Christine walked over to me with a calming aura.

“See, there’s nothing to be afraid of”

After Meg and Raoul left to finish dinner, Christine and I found ourselves sitting on the living room floor, trying to tire the child out so he would fall asleep. So far we’ve had no luck. He kept stumbling back and forth between the two of us, which I guess was his attempt at running, but it looked pitiful.

I could tell Christine had unanswered questions about how I know how to take care of a child, but she has yet to ask them, more focused on the child himself. Eventually, he started to get tired, I could see he was having trouble keeping his eyes open as he plopped himself down in my lap, resting his head on my chest and falling asleep. Christine giggled when she realized what happened, but made sure to stay quiet as to not wake George up.

Meg came bouncing out, announcing loudly that dinner was ready. Christine and I both shushed her quietly, pointing to the baby lounging on my chest.

“You’re a saint,” Meg whispered, staring in shock at the once hyper baby.

I stood up slowly with the help of Christine and put George in his bed, then we headed over to eat dinner. Somehow this is the most nerve-wracking thing about this night.

We sat down and I looked at the pasta on my plate, shockingly, it didn’t look like it was made by someone who has never stepped foot in a kitchen. Maybe Meg made it. Madame Giry was always obsessed with all of the ballet girls being ‘proper women’ mostly because of the rumors that go around about them, it was important to her. Not that those girls did anything really to fight against the rumors, at least they knew how to cook and clean.

“So, Erik, it’s nice to finally meet you, in the flesh that is.”

“And you little Giry,” I stopped, scared about how she will each to the nickname. All she did was giggle.

“I’ve never heard somebody call me that before,”

“Well, at times it gets hard to distinguish you from your mother, you’re a lot like her when she was your age, well about your age.”

“Really,” She was intrigued, “My mother never talks about her lie, ever, it’s always ‘practice, practice, practice, ‘it’s cool to hear.”

And from there, the conversation went smoothly, everything went smoothly, not as I thought it would have. I thought it was all going to fall to the dirt. Christine’s friends would hate me and with that, hate her also. I thought they were going to kick me out because I was ugly because I’ve murdered people, because anything, but they didn’t they treated me like I was human, something I’ve never really experienced since before I met Christine.

Something about this woman has turned my life around. She treats me with love, she cares for me, and I just don’t know what to make of it. I don’t know how to give her back what she gives to me, so I do things like put her best friends brother’s child to sleep, but that’s still not enough.

I know she’s just going to keep on giving, she’ll give me the world, and I can only give her ugliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love filler Chapters.  
> So I'm so sad that this story is ending soon, i've been writing it for so long, IDK what i'm going to do with my life after this, maybe I'll start another story, but I don't have a plot line. Therefore don't be surprised when I strong this tory out as long as possible.


	35. Chapter 35

It’s the day, it’s finally the day to perform Erik’s opera live in front of an audience. The Opera house is bustling with excitement, as it usually does on the morning of a performance. However, it was also bustling with stress. People cramming last lines down, seamstresses stitching their last costume together, the orchestra getting that measure of music together that they get the cue wrong on. 

We had an early dress rehearsal to make sure everything in the Opera was perfect since everybody felt as though their life was on the line, however, the managers didn’t care. After lunch, the police and special investigators are coming to do their final rehearsal, the main reason that we have an early rehearsal. The two idiots still in charge of all of this still think that it’s just some random person trying to steal their money, actually they believe its Madame Giry, and so they’re here to put an end to it all. But it’s not some random person, it is the most talented and smartest person in this establishment at all times. He can’t be outsmarted by three special investigators, he will outsmart them, and if I’m right, it will be during the Point of no Return, actually, I’m sure of it.

These last two nights, Erik has taken me up to a practice stage, one we haven’t used in years and is now only used as a dressing room and practiced Point of No Return. However, it’s not the version I’m used to. He gave me different lyrics and a different melody, still similar to the plot line and to the original rendition, but way more captivating. Erik also participated in the dancing, singing the male part himself, so I have no doubts.

The police and Managers don’t know that though, and I plan to keep it that way. I think his plan is to shock everyone involved in the Opera a shock, from the managers to the policemen to the orchestra themselves. He told me that he wanted to be in it, so I’m not going to deny him his lifelong dream.

For so long he probably believed that he wouldn’t be able to produce his Opera because he’s been outcast from society, but now he can and he can be in it, this is his dream and I want him to feel like an accepted human again.

I haven’t yet told him I’m pregnant, although now it’s for certain. I just don’t know how to, I’m looking for the perfect moment and it just hadn’t happened yet. To just up and tell him wouldn’t make it special, that’s something you do for your second kid and not your first. I mean, didn’t get a very special way of someone telling me I was pregnant, I also have to carry the baby to term and give birth, so there’s nothing good about being pregnant for me except for after I have the child. I do get to eat without excuse, and he has to take care of me for the remaining eight months

I’m going to tell him, most likely tonight if all goes well, making tonight the night that changes his life. His Opera goes live and I tell him he’s going to be a father, he’s going to be ecstatic, hopefully.

He’s good with children, there’s no doubting that after what I saw with George, but the question is will he want one? I still haven’t answered that and he’s so suspicious of everything right now I don’t think I could ask him how he feels about being a father without him reading too far into it. Therefore, I haven’t asked him anything leaving it all to chance.

It was while we were eating lunch when the investigators walked in. They’ve been asking around for more information about Erik, but Madame Giry told them to stay away from the leads. If she had just old them to stay away from me that would have been too suspicious and only make them want to ask me more questions, but if she says to stay away from all the leads because they have to focus on their parts, they kept away from us.

“I just wish they would leave, these new managers are absolute rubbish at their jobs. Monsieur Lefevre took the Phantom and just did what he said, no questions asked, and we were fine, but no, they have to fight back. Those stingy bastards won’t know what’s going to hit them.” Meg ranted. “Now having met Erik, I don’t want him to get caught, I want him around so he can babysit my child.”

“Wait,” I said curiously, “Are you pregnant?”

“What, no” Meg blushed, “Apparently Raoul wants to wait, but not that long because I am engaged to him. Why do you ask, because you seemed very happy that I could have been? Were you just imagining our childhood fantasy where you and I had children at the same time and they were soulmates?”

“Meg you are reading too far into this.” I said, avoiding her question.

“Oh my gosh Christine, I’m so happy for you.” Meg squealed, capturing some people’s attention.

“Shh, I don’t want anyone to know, even Erik doesn’t know, right now it’s only you, me, and your mother who brought it to my attention that I might be,” I whispered. I smiled at the other ballet girls, trying to deter their attention away from me. It worked, they may like gossip, but they know they won’t get much gossip from me. I was more of a listener and less of a participator, I collected dirt on the other girls just in case I needed it, you can never be too careful.

“Wait, you mean you haven’t told Erik yet, how far along on you.”

“I don’t know, about six weeks I guess, seven maybe. I’ve lost count of the weeks that have passed.”

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know, I’m more focused on both how to tell Erik and how he will react, I have time to think of the other things.”

“I hope it’s a boy because I want to have a girl,” Meg looked into the distance, a starry look in her eyes.

“Well they don’t have to be opposite, look at Jammes and her fiancé, Ashley, although I don’t like Ashley, I like Jammes and she is happy.”

“I guess you’re right, But why don’t you like Ashely,”

“I don’t know, she seems like a nice girl, there’s just something about her,”

“Is it weird to say I completely understand what you’re saying?”

“I don’t think so, we’re friends, we have that weird connection.”

We chatted a bit more before an investigator started making his way towards us.

_ Don’t approach the table, don’t approach the table,  _ I said in my head as he approached the table. He was a tall man, short blond hair hidden under a blue hat and with a matching jacket and trousers hiding his big form.

“Sorry, to bother you miss, but I’d like to have a few words,” I looked at Meg to see what she would do, but all she did was stare at me. “Miss,” He touched my shoulder and I flinched away.

I still don’t like unexpected touches from people I don’t know.

“Oh me,” I nervously laughed, “I’m a lead,”

“Oh, pardon me, it just looked like you were eating, and I didn’t think talking with you during your lunch break would hinder any practice you need to get done.”

“Actually it does,” Meg took over, knowing I’m a terrible liar, “We were just practicing the words for her song, she keeps messing up those particular lyrics,” I nodded, a small smile on my face, happy that she had the sense to come in with that lie.

“Right, well it will only take a second.” He stared down into my soul, making me uncomfortable.

“Fine,” I broke under his glare.

“Okay, follow me,” I looked at him again and he reminded me of someone I don’t like and decided not to follow him. After about three paces he turned around, noticing I was still seated. “Uh, miss? Right, this way.”

“If it will only take a second, then it shouldn’t be a problem to stay right here, where everyone can see me.”

“If I must insist, you should follow me, it will be in your best interest.” Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.

“You’re not even supposed to interview me, if I must insist, you should be glad I granted you one in the first place, I’m staying right here.” The creepy man looked troubled for a second before sighing and complying.

“What do you know about the phantom?” He pulled out his little pitiful notebook and pen and readied himself to write.

“Absolutely nothing, I’ve never seen him before, although sometimes I do think that I’ve heard him walking around, I’ve never seen him. It’s like he’s a ghost.” Meg was turning red trying not to laugh, and the investigator was turning the same shade trying not to explode from anger. He should have guessed that I wasn’t going to give him a straight answer, although he doesn’t know my relationship, obviously, I wasn’t going to tell him.

I truly don’t think many people have given them any truth, maybe something they believe to be the truth, but not reality. I’m sure that Erik has made contraptions to throw off people in the past, there was one time somebody swore the Phantom was just a floating head on fire. Although that was a drunk stagehand, so there’s not much credibility there.

“Hm,” he hummed, “So he has footsteps, interesting,” He started writing something down, I’m not sure what, everybody knows that ghost have footsteps. “Name,” He demanded.

“Christine Daae,”

“Married,”

“No,”

“Soulmate?” That’s a weirdly personal comment that has no relation to this investigation, well, not really.

“No comment,”

“No comment,” he repeated, he voice saying that he wasn’t going to let it go, “Age?”

“18”

“So you do have a soulmate than?”

“I guess I do,”

“His name,”

“Your guess is as good as mine,”

“Well, I’ve heard rumors that your soulmate is the Phantom,” he said cockily.

“Who said that? It was Piangi wasn’t it? Well I’ll let you in on something, Piangi is married to the woman who hates my guts and wants me gone, and they’re probably just plotting to get rid of me. The Phantom isn’t even real, everyone knows that. He was a nursery story told to the little children that live here to get them to do their best.” I lied. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Meg nodding her head, either impressed by my lie or agreeing with me to make it more credible. I also felt a tingling on my wrist and fought the will to look because I just told him I don’t have a soulmate.

“Well, then how do you explain what happened at the masquerade ball?” He challenged me.

“Some man saw the opportunity to make his Opera a reality and took that chance.”

“You seem to have this all planned out, did you just come up with that,”

“Well no, I’ve-“ the bell chimed, cutting me off from coming up with more lies. “Well it seems you have used up your whole second, thank you, but I have to go to practice.” I smiled and grabbed my tray, dumping the mush off of it and walking away.

I was happy to get away from the conversation, that man really creeped me out, plus I was running out of lies. However, I feel a little bad for sassing him, I think it’s the hormones starting to kick in, that’s what I’m going to chalk it up to. I looked down at my wrist as I was making my way back to the stage.

_ We really need to work on you lying. _

Rude.

Everyone gathered onto the stage, waiting for our next directions for where to start in the Opera, but the managers and conductor were occupied with the Chief of Police. A muscular, intimidating man with a wine red nose who speaks with his hands, telling everyone watching exactly where his men were going to be in the crowd.

I looked up into the rafters and could see the white of Erik's mask. I knew he was in the room, both because I had a feeling and because there was no way he wouldn’t be there for the final practice of the Opera coming together. He’s been here for the past week, writing down a list of things that need to be fixed and giving the list to Madame Giry every hour for us to fix. It’s been a little annoying because he’s been so nitpicky.

Erik was watching the Chief's hands in close detail so he could plan accordingly, I could tell even from this far away he was doing that. Eventually, they noticed that we were all standing watching them and told us to start from the Beginning of the Opera.

The house lights turned off and the stage lights on and we went through it one more time, now with the cops watching us, planning out what they would do if he showed up in each scene. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't particularly like this chapter because I wasn't feeling into writing very much this week since I was very busy so I didn't want to write the scene for Point of No Return, but I promise it's coming next week.   
> Also, I've posted another work, just something short that I found the other day, but you should go check it out.   
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479581/chapters/38593739


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I linked the video I took the choreography from at the end of the chapter in case you are confused about any of my explanations, which I wouldn't be surprised. Everything is pretty much the same except the whole Christine being afraid of Erik thing.

_This is it, this is his scene_. I thought behind the curtains, watching Piangi sing his final lines in the Opera unknowingly. Piangi was to exit upstage left and there waiting for him would be Erik, wearing the same cloak covering his face, gloves on his hands, ready to take his place.

I’ve talked to Erik about this, everything that is about to happen, time and time again, but he stands strong in it. I told him he should wait for the last performance to come on stage, not the first, I told him to let more people see it because it will bring hundreds in. Everybody wants to be there to see the phantoms’ Opera even though many people before the Masquerade ball happened didn’t even know we had a real live Phantom. Sure there’s the myth that every theater has a ghost, but this one actually has a ghost. I also told Erik that there was probably a better way to get rid of Piangi, like put out a plate of donuts, but he insisted on knocking him over the head. Erik believes he has full control over how much strength he puts into a blow, but I’ve been picked up enough times to know that he either thinks I’m heavier that I actually am or that he has no control over his strength and ends up giving me a little toss before catching me in his arms.

Yet no amount of talking could talk him down, keeping it less noticeable, but he was avid.

I walked out onto the stage, seeing the full house again and started getting nervous. I haven’t gotten nervous on stage since I sang ‘Think of Me’, but this is just as nerve-wracking. I sang my couple of lines with pin-point accuracy, and looked up to box five out of habit, but only saw Raoul in there, who in turn gave me a thumbs up. He and Meg know what’s going on, I wasn’t planning on telling him, but Meg went home thinking about it after I told her and he figured it out pretty quickly. Soulmates, am I right?

In the back of my mind, I heard Erik knocking Piangi out but sang through it, knowing that this was going to end well before Erik walked on stage for his queue.

Instantly, the crowd, conductor, managers, and police officers were visibly confused, not sure what to do even though they practiced for this, but not exactly this. The changes Eriks made start with his entrance.

Erik sang his part and I turned to him, keeping my acting face on, but it was hard when I was both happy and nervous for him.

His voice reverberated around the room and it sounded like an angel from heaven, and though I’ve heard him sing on numerous occasions, it doesn’t stop my breath from catching in my throat when I heard him on the stage.

My mind went back to our practices, trying to remember where I was supposed to be and what I was supposed to do. He walked behind the table and I in front of it before we both walked to opposite ends of the head of the table. He leaned over the table and I followed suit, staring him in his eyes, although it was hard to see them through the cloth covering his head, and he reached his hand across the long table towards me, I did the same.

_“You know Erik when you lean over like that, that giant hood makes you look like one of those dogs, the ones with the big ear,” I chuckled._

_“Christine, could you focus, we don’t have that much time.” He was starting to get annoyed with me, but I didn’t care._

_“I tired Erik, I’ve been doing this all day, why can’t we just stick to the original choreography,” I asked, sitting down on the prop table my back to him._

_“First of all, the choreography they gave you sucks, you two just walk around in circles before hugging once at the end, I’ve been letting it slide because I knew I was going to take over,” He said as he walked around the table before standing in front of me and lifting my chin up with his hand, “So first and foremost, I’m changing it so it looks better, more exciting to watch, this is the big part of the show, it needs to stick out, and second of all, by the end of it when they realize that I’m not Piangi, they’ll be taking aim, but they’ve been given distinct orders to not shoot if putting another in danger, especially the leads.”_

_‘So you’re using me as a human shield?”_

_“No,” He said looking into my eyes, but I could see right him._

_“Erik,”_

_“Fine, yes,” He said letting go of me and walking away. “But if they were actually to take fire, I would jump in front of it, I wouldn’t let them hurt a hair on your body.”_

_“Alright let’s do this one last time, then I’m going to bed,” I said hopping off the table, giving him a kiss before walking to my starting spot._

He stood up straight, looking the crowd straight on and sang his ‘decided’ part where I sat down on the chair that was behind me, the dress pooling around my legs. The managers and police men are starting to realize that the man on the stage right now is taller and skinner than Piangi, and are starting to get suspicious. However, since I didn’t react, the audience doesn’t suspect a thing.

He started singing ‘Past the point of no return’ and I started the choreography he gave me. I spun in my chair, facing the wings, but not able to see in because of the curtains covering it. I looked over my shoulder as he said, ‘no backward glances’. I slid my leg around me twice, bringing it from the back to the front, showing it off as he walked towards me.

As he started singing the next phrase, I slowly stood up as he inched closer, then started tangoing with him.

_He stumbled once more, and I apologized again for stepping on his foot._

_“I’ve seen you dance gracefully, you could leap into the air and make no sound as you land on your feet, yet you still manage to step onto mine, how is that Christine,” He looked absolutely drained._

_“I was never good at tangoing. Is that even the proper verb?” I said sheepishly._

_“You just need to follow me, we aren’t even doing it for that long, three measures and then I push you back onto the table.”_

_“Right I get it,”_

_“Do you?”_

_“You know, you’re harsh when you’re stressed.”_

_“I’m harsh when you can’t get the simple moves.”_

_“Okay, just go over it one more time,” I asked._

_“We’ll do it slowly,” I nodded, standing with my back to him, but my hand in his. He slowly pulled me into him, spinning while doing so. “Back one, forward two, and back to the table.” He said as we did the moves. “See, I know you could do it,”_

_“Alright, I got it now, at the tempo.”_

I stood up, grabbing his hand in passing before he spun while pulling me into him. I repeated the steps in my head.

Back one.

Forward two.

Watch for the table, we don’t want to slam into it again.

I laid back onto the table, my left arm going above my head and he ran his hand down my extended leg before I stood up.

We walked around the table, him in the back and me in the front before I sat on the table next to the fake strawberries. He picked one up and circled it around my head, my eyes watching the strawberry, I grabbed for it with my mouth as he pulled it away than put it back.

_“Yeah I don’t like this,” I complained._

_“Christine just trust me,”_

_“I’m getting dizzy, plus you can’t tease me with food like that I’m-“ I stopped, I almost just told him I was pregnant and that is the last thing I want to do at this moment. Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t figured it out yet, it’s not like I’m very good at hiding it. Plus, at night he holds me around my stomach, and I know I’m not that big, in fact, I’ve barley grown at all, it’s just he notices the small things that change._

I scooted back closer to him and he leaned up against me, singing in my ear, caressing my arm. He stepped away to take his gloves off as crossed my hands on my legs until he folded his hands in front of my face.

I tore them apart before jumping off the table and standing in front of the far end, just in time to sing my part. The first part is pretty much us just standing there staring at each other and at some point he takes a few steps forward. It isn’t until I say ‘in my mind, I already imagined’ do we start moving.

I placed my leg on the bench in front of me, pulling my dress aside and exposing my leg through the slit in the dress. Erik walked over and helped me up onto the table. There we stood looking at each other once more before I lowered my hand, him sitting down with it, I then kneeled on the table and took a fake drink from the chalice sitting in front of me, handing it to him so he could do the same.

_“Erik,” I said, looking down at him from my position on the table, “You do know your mouth is covered right? There is no possible way for you to be able to drink like that”_

_He chuckled, nodding his head, “yes, Christine, I guess you’re right, But I can’t really take the hood off, now can I?”_

_“You’re right, but still with this on,” I said, lifting the hood off of his head, “Then I can’t do this.” I leaned down from my spot above him and kissed him. He stood up, placing one hand on my cheek, the other around the middle of my back. I slowly leaned up as he stood up and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. After a couple more seconds, he broke away, putting his forehead to mine, breathing heavily._

_“We should really keep practicing,”_

_“Yeah we really should,” I said, kissing him some more._

I started singing the chorus, standing and started dancing on the table before stepping over to him and sticking my leg through the slit again. He reached up just as choreographed and grasped it, but not for more than a second when I pulled away. I tangoed a bit more on the table, easier than doing so with a partner because I don’t have to worry about stepping on someone's feet.

I gestured towards Erik, waving my arms up and down in sync with his once. He stood up, circling around the bench as I danced more on the table before stepping down onto the bench, this next part makes me a bit nervous.

_“You’re going to put your leg here,”_

_“I’m going to what now,” He was pointing to where his shoulder meets his collarbone._

_“Don’t worry, I’ll grab you, now wrap your arms around my neck.”_

_“You must be out of your mind,” I exclaimed._

_“Christine, do you trust me,” He asked seriously, I looked him in the eyes for a second before responding._

_“Not right now I don’t,” He stared at me in disbelief for a second, making me cave and bend my knee into the crook of his shoulder and wrapped my arms around his neck. Erik grabbed onto me, right under my butt, picking me up and lowered me while spinning in a circle. “I can’t do that while singing._

I kept my voice steady while he lowered me to the ground, and although we practiced that move tens of times because of me, I still was unsure.

Then we both started singing. He placed his hand on my shoulder and backed me up. I spun out of the way and faced the audience, just now remembering that they were here.

I was so focused on getting everything he taught me right just being able to sing with him on stage, I forgot everything around me. It just seems like I’ve been thinking about this moment for two months now, and now it has become a reality.

He stood behind me and grabbed my hands as I stretched them out. He slowly hugged me from behind before I broke out of it and spun to face him us both grabbing each other as we sing ‘stand’ and were chest to chest to each other by the end of the song.

_“And that’s it,” He huffed out,_

_“You say that like it’s not a lot, you’re lucky I’m a dancer by trade.”_

_“You’re a singer by trade,”_

_“Some could say that,”_

_“And then from here, I have a surprise,”_

_“Yeah, I don’t like the sound of that.”_

_“It’s fine.”_

Then, Erik started singing a song I’ve never heard before. He slowly turned us both to face each other, lowering his hood and pulling a something out of his cloak. I gasped, as he got down on one knee, holding an open box out to me and showing a ring. He exposed himself just so he could propose to me, that’s so romantic, and the song was beautiful. I wondered when he would have found time but knowing him, he probably made it up on the spot. Once he stopped singing his golden eyes asked the question with so much emotion behind them, and all I could muster was a nod of my head. He stood up, slipping the ring one my finger, making it a reality that I’m going to be married.  

A loud noise ripped through the auditorium, then a loud commotion, but I was still looking down at the ring now on my finger.

I was a simple golden ring, most likely not real gold, but a girl can dream. However, if I know Erik, I know that that ring was made by him which makes it all the more special.

Erik grabbed my hand, ripping me out of my trance, and stomped on the ground and before I knew it, I was falling. The last thing I saw was a storm of people rushing out of the room, and one single pistol still pointed at us, smoke coming out of the barrel, and it was in the hand of that fat manager.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nj7FJ_s5xSE 


	37. Chapter 37

I hit the bale of hay with Christine landing on top of me with an ‘oof’ before rolling off and pressing the pressure plate on the ground and watching the wall open. I didn’t actually think they would open fire, but I was prepared just in case.  Once the opening in the wall parted enough, I squeezed me and Christine and continued running. As we were halfway down the first hallway, I heard a click that signaled that they had opened the trap door on the stage, now they just have to get past the second one.

“Where are we going?” Christine huffed through breaths.

“Home,” I replied, making the first turn and the floor started down a slope.

“Are you sure that’s wise, what if they follow us,” Christine ask worriedly.

“There are so many turns in the path, they’re made for people to get lost, trap doors, dead ends, and they’ll have to follow our footsteps to find us.” I took another turn, the ground lowering even more.

Waiting back at the house for us is a giant stack of money and bags laying open ready to be filled with clothes and food if needed. Since I don’t have to pay rent, I’ve been saving up the money I’ve gotten from the Opera house for a moment like this where I had to escape on a whim. We’d have to flee for a couple days before returning if we can even return at all.

The loud calls and footfalls behind us quieted to nothing, telling me we either lost them or they gave up. We were pretty far down now, and almost there, so I decided to slow up, not wanting to tire Christine out, I can hear her huffing, struggling to keep up.

“Your legs are twice the size of mine, could you please take smaller strides?” She complained out of breath.

“I am not that much taller than you,”

“You still walk fast.”

We came up to a stone wall and Christine let out an exasperated sigh before I pushed the button on the wall, and the door opened up into the kitchen. We walked in and I made sure it closed tight so that if they were still following us, they’d think it’s just another dead end and not investigate any further.

“There are two bags sitting on your bed-“ I started before she cut me off.

“Our bed,” she said sternly.

“Our bed, fill one with some clothes, not everything, we can buy more or come back and get some when the time is right, and the other with food and necessities.” She nodded before running off to _our_ room.

I lifted the couch and moved it back an inch, reaching into a pocket in the carpet and grabbing the pouch of money out of it. I call it a pouch, but it really was a bag with a lot of money in it. Enough to get us on our feet for a year if we plan carefully before we have to get jobs. As I stood up, I heard the water start to move on the other side of the bank and yelling getting louder. There seemed to be a riot coming down here.

The real question is, how?

If it’s just the people that work at the opera house, I can estimate that we will have about another hour before they get down here, and that’s if they’re lucky. However, there was movement on the other side of the bank so it put me on my guard. I ran up the stairs and into the room with Christine. She turned around in shock and asked me what was wrong, but I shushed her.

“Just stay here,” I whispered, “No matter what happens.” She looked concerned, but nodded anyway, turning back to the closet and pulling some of my clothes out. I peeked my head around the doorway and saw a light reflecting off the stone wall. An unfamiliar voice was carried across the lake, and I started to worry for Christine. I don’t care if I get hurt or killed even, but if I do, what will be left for her. I’m sure Meg will take her in, but what then? She loves me, I know that, and I don’t think she wants to lose me when we just got comfortable and stable in the relationship.

The water started moving which meant that we had less time than I originally thought. I rushed around the house, grabbing some final things like food and a jug of water, bringing it up to Christine before they even made it around the bend.

“Are they here?” Christine whispered, grabbing onto my arm as I tried to leave again. I nodded yes, and she thought about it for a second before replying. “ How did they find the way down here, it took me two weeks of going up and down twice a day for me to remember, and they took one lucky guess?”

“I’m not sure, haven’t gotten that far, my biggest worry is getting you out of here safe and alive.”

“Both of us, your job may be to get me out of here alive, but mine is to get you out of here alive. You must be out of your mind if you think I’m leaving you here as a sacrifice for me to escape. We do this together.” I looked at her for a second longer, but not annoyed, I looked at her with love because that’s what she deserves. All she is doing is looking out for me, the same I’m doing for her, and although that is putting a damper on my plan to get her out of here safe, even if it means putting myself in danger.

It shouldn’t matter, they should be trapped at the gate and if we’re lucky, they’ll fall into the water and get killed by the spirits that live in it. I do live next to catacombs after all, not that I’ll tell Christine that until we don’t live here anymore if I plan to tell her at all.

“I know Raoul is leading a riot in the wrong direction, there’s no way that he couldn’t have made a wrong turn right and led them here, right?”

“How does Raoul even know the route in the first place?” I questioned. She looked away with a sheepish look in her eyes, “You truly are a terrible liar.” I sighed, sticking my head out the door, and made eye contact with a man on the other side of the gate through the metal bars. I trekked through my brain, trying to see if I recognize that man as I pushed Christine further into the room and away from danger, but to no avail. This means they are just some random civilians because I can tell they’re not cops by the way they’re dressed.

“You there,” The man yelled, “Come out and face us like a real man.” Christine looked up at me, pure horror in her eyes, silently asking me what I was going to do. I gave her a reassuring look, this isn’t my first time in a fight, but I’m getting old and so hopefully it will be one of my last. I sat Christine down on the bed and walked out of the room, grabbing my Punjab and strolling confidently out of the room.

“Oh look, the freak has come to play,” He said through the gate.

“Bold coming from a man who is hiding behind a gate,”  I replied boldly.

“Open this gate and you can see how bold I truly am.” So I did. Immediacy I could sense the fear coming off of them, clearly not ready for that, but I am a man of my word, and I don’t want these men invading my home.

Once they were through enough and starting to plan an attack with the change of scenery, I made my move. I whipped the punjab towards the one with the big mouth and caught him around the neck. Pure terror flashed past his eyes as I pulled the rope and he fell into the water. With a flick of my wrist, the rope came free, ready for another attack on my command. The other two men stood in the boat, shock written across their faces, the reality settling in that they won’t be able to get a hit on me. With another attack, two were in the water. Let’s hope they can swim with broken necks.

Bloodlust was starting to fill my mind again, and just when I had worked so hard to clear myself of it. For such a long time, I would only kill when it was self-defense, not even then, I would just leave them harmed. I stopped carrying my lasso, multiple knives, and other deadly weapons I was trained with, only a small pocket knife when I went out, but feel the rope between my hands revived something in me, and this won’t end well.

With a crazed look in my eye and voices telling me I’m doing the right thing, I caught the last one around the neck but didn’t pull this time. Killing them this way was no fun, it was too easy, not satisfying something that I have so long hidden deep inside. So, with him, I pulled the boat closer to the shoreline then ripped him off the boat and over my head.

_Still not good enough_ , I thought as his body made a sickly bang when he hit the rock. _Luckily there’s one more who thought he could hide and surprise me, huh, regular people_. I chuckled, turning my back on him as to make him believe that I didn’t know he was there. I heard him stand up and shuffle out of the boat as quietly as possible as I walked into the kitchen, grabbing a butchers knife.

I listened behind me trying to figure where he was sitting and honed in on him, all other surroundings disappeared, it was just me and him.

Turning around at the speed of light, I was shocked to hear the second gunshot tonight. When I turned around I had thrown the knife and it landed dead center in his skull, killing him instantly. He collapsed and I registered the pain ripping through my shoulder.

Christine screamed my name which brought me back to reality.

She came rushing towards me at an alarmingly fast speed, she was by my side by the time I hit the ground.

“Erik, you’ve got to listen to me, focus on my voice, Erik you’re going to be okay, you can’t leave me now,” She rambled on, slowly breaking me out of my trance. Christine must be thinking that the wound is fatal, nothing bad, just a hole under my collarbone, I can feel it. An inch or so lower, he would have caught my lung, but luckily his shaky hand betrayed him. “Erik, please, don’t do this to me, to us. You can’t leave me now, I’m pregnant.”

_What?_ I thought, shaking my head and fully meeting her eyes, disbelief definitely was written all over my face. There’s no way she could be pregnant, well there’s plenty of ways, but we’re not married, and how long. Why didn’t she tell me earlier?

“Pregnant,” I repeated her, still so many questions running through my mind.

“Yes,” She had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling with so much joy, they were tears of happiness, and soon I started to follow suit. 

“Huh,” she gasped, “Your shoulder,” she stood up before I could grab her and tell her it was okay and she took off towards the bathroom to grab some bandages.

She returned with the gauze, a washcloth, and bowl filled with water. She placed it on the floor next to me and pulled my clothes aside, unbuttoning my shirt and taking it off completely, a little useless, but if that’s what she thought she needed.

“Christine, we really don’t have time for this, we need to get a head start on them,” I said as she started cleaning the wound, wiping up the blood pouring from it. I winced, but she continued on.

“What and let you bleed out, no thanks. I’d take my chances on us getting caught, lord knows you could fight them all off, but not while you’re still in pain because of this. Plus, Raoul is leading the riot in the wrong direction.” She went behind me, noting that the bullet did, in fact, go all the way through.

“And how does he know it the wrong direction?” I asked, full well knowing the answer.

“I told Meg,” she whispered.

“That’s what I thought,” At that, she pushed down on the wound harder than needed just to get back at me. I winced, curing her under my breath as she started wrapping the wound. There was a sound silence as she finished cleaning around the wound and wrapping my arm before I broke it.

“How long have you known?”

“Umm, a month or so,” she avoided eye contact.

“And when were you planning on telling me?”

“Tonight,”

“Why did you wait so long,” She started to gather the remaining materials up, walking away, not looking at me at all.

“I didn’t want to tell you if it wasn’t true or if I miscarried. I just couldn’t get your hopes up like that and then kill them. Then I was late getting my period and I knew it was true, and I got so nervous you would be mad. Plus I didn’t know how you’d react.” She said the last part under her breath as I was putting my shirt and jacket back on, but I heard it anyways.

“First of all, if you did miscarry, did you expect to take that burden on of losing a child by yourself? If you had told me and then miscarried, I wouldn’t have been mad at you, I would have helped you get through it. Second of all, how did you think I was going to react?”

“I don’t know.” She finally turned to me, “I took you to take care of baby George, and thought you were great at taking care of him, you were still afraid of him. I just, I don’t know,”

I walked over to her, hugging her and whipping her tears away.

“I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me, and I wouldn’t have been mad at all, in fact, I’m ecstatic, I’m going to be a father, and you a mother.”

“But I’m so young, I didn’t think I could handle it yet, and you had just worked so hard to get me a spotlight, I didn’t want to destroy that by being pregnant, especially when none of them know I’m even married, which I’m not.”

“Yes, but you’re engaged.” I pulled back, keeping her in my arms, but meeting her eyes. “I’ve waited my whole life for a moment like this, and sure in my dreams, I hadn’t just gotten shot and wasn’t being forced out of my home, but I have the love of my life, standing before me, pregnant with our child.,” I placed my hand on her stomach, bot feeling a bump, but imagining what was inside. ”What more could I possibly ask for? I’m sad you didn’t tell me earlier in fear, but I’m happy you told me and I didn’t find out by myself, though looking back on it all, I should have suspected that the second I had to keep retailoring this dress,” I leaned in close to her ear, “Which makes you look amazing by the way.”

She giggled and blushed, taking my head in her hands and kissing me hard. It was only half a minute later when I heard drums overhead of us, meaning that although they aren’t close, they aren’t far either.

“You need to move the bodies before I almost throw up again. I know you did it out of self-defense, well mostly, but that doesn’t mean I want to see them.” She said, holding back a gag.

“We should probably get going,” I said, resting my forehead against hers.

“Right, yes. I think I have everything we need to be packed up, but where are we staying, we can’t just go out into the night with no plan.”

“Ah Christine, ye of little faith.” I tilted her chin up and gave her nose a light peck before turning around and heading towards the room. Christine followed behind me, I could hear her footsteps, but when I was halfway up the four stairs, she stopped, calling my name. I turned around and after noticing her staring at the wall, I rushed towards her, now feeling more protective over her knowing it’s not just her I’m saving. I placed my body in front of hers ready to take any hits that were to come as the door in the wall slowly opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little longer than usual but I felt like it was important to be that way since it's a turning point, I think the proper term was? I don't remember, I just know it's a good chapter and it's on time for like the first time ever.


	38. Chapter 38

“Dargoa, I swear,” Erik yelled, throwing his arms up in the air. “I told you I don’t need your help.”

“Says the wanted man,” Nadir, said stepping into the house and walking over to me and kissing me on both cheeks. I reciprocated. “How are you, Christine?” He asked.

“I’m fine, and you?”

“Oh good, good,” By this time, Erik was already up and down the stairs, bags in hand and ready to leave. “You’re wanted for fraud, kidnapping, and murder,” He pointed an accusing finger at Erik.

“That’s ridiculous, I haven’t kidnapped or murdered anyone,” Nadir responded in silence, only looking at me and the three dead bodies on the floor which I have chosen to ignore. Erik moved them out of eyesight, mostly for that matter, because it wasn’t a good reminder. “Okay, well I haven’t murdered anyone that they know of.”

“Bouquet, what about him?”

“That pervert, he had it coming to him. Maybe if he didn’t stick his nose in places they didn’t need to be, he’d be alive.” I shuttered, remembering too many bad memories about that man. I’m pretty sure Erik was just looking for an excuse to kill him after Bouquet had the incidents.

That’s what we call them at the Opera house. It happened over about two year’s right when he started becoming an alcoholic, he tried to force a number of us ballet girls into doing things that we weren’t comfortable with to sum it up. So when Erik bumped into him in the rafters, still holding the grudge from when it happened, I was like thirteen, fourteen, and Erik killed him just recently.

“Erik, he was doing his job,” Nadir defended him.

“No,” I interrupted, “I have to agree with Erik on this one, sometimes people deserve to die, after what he’s done to… people, I think he had it coming.”

“You two really are made for each other.”

“Why are you even here in the first place?” Erik asked, shoving a giant bag full of something, change maybe, in one of the bags and tying it off, putting them both around his shoulders and ignoring me when I said I could grab one.

“I’m helping you escape.” Drums, again, this time louder. They reminded us that we don’t have much time.

“Fine, Just move,” Erik said begrudgingly. Nadir started out the door after grabbing one of the bags off Erik’s back. “Are you going to be good? It could be a long walk.”

“I’ll be fine Erik, as long as we’re safe, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Then we were off. It was a short walk up surprisingly, at least to the outside. I’ve never taken this route, he has so many, I’d be surprised if even he knows all of them. When we reached the surface, Meg and Madame Giry were there waiting for us.

“Meg, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing here, I’m part of your rescue squad.” Erik sighed and shook his head, tying his bag onto the back of Caesar. “We’re taking you to Nadir’s house. He seems like a great guy, my mother seems to get along with him nicely.” She said, looking over her shoulder at her mother, who is not smiling at Nadir, but with how much she frowns, she might as well be.  

“Christine,” Erik said, coming up behind me, “Are you ready,” I turned back to look at where we came from, entirely unnoticeable if you don’t know what you’re looking for, and thought about it.

I don’t want to leave here, and I know Erik doesn’t either. It’s been his home for at least fifteen years, if not more, and that’s where I found my soulmate. There are so many good memories in there that I don’t want to lose. Why do the managers have to be such sticklers, I just wanted peace and a secure job at the Opera House, but they were stingy, only thinking about themselves. If they had just let it all play out, everything would have been okay. My vision started fogging up and tear streaks started falling down my face.

“I know Christine, I don’t want to leave it either, but just think, it’ll start a new chapter in our lives together.” He placed both his hands on my stomach. “You don’t want to raise our baby in the gutters, she will be better off in a countryside home, able to play in a large open field. Trust me, everything will turn out fine.”

“She?” he referred to the baby as she, he may think he knows things, but the baby is inside of me. “He, I think you mean him.”

“We will see,” I turned back to the original conversation.

“What about all of you instruments, and compositions, they’ll be lost forever.” I cried, turning around to face him.

“The compositions are all up here,” He said pointing to his head, “and I can always make more instruments, plus we can also go back later and salvage anything we can. They’d have to be smart enough to actually reach the home, and the boat is gone. Most people would go insane crossing that lake, not able to see the bottom. That is, of course, saying that they made it past all of the traps I have set in the way. Even Nadir couldn’t pass them without getting caught.” He wiped my tears away, lowing himself so that we were face to face, “Christine, as long as I have you, everything is going to be alright, okay?”

I nodded yes.

“Let’s go lovebirds,” Nadir said from the back of the horse, Madame Giry on another beside him. Erik stood up tall, hopping on the horse and pulling me up in front of him.

We rode away from the Opera house, somehow not stirring any suspicion, from the four people wearing black hooded jackets riding away from the scene of a crime isn’t suspicious at all. I looked back at the Opera house, seeing a huge crowd of people gathered around it from being held back by the police officers. There were people being helped out of the building by EMT’s, most likely because they were stomped on by the crowd trying to escape. Inside the police force were newspaper writers taking interviews from both police officers on the scene and people that were there when it happens.

Then I watched as it disappeared around the corner and another wave of sadness hit me. I know this is for the better, but I can’t help but want it go all go back to how it was. I loved the comfort in knowing I have a job, the comfort of that job being something I love. Sure I have Erik and the Giry’s and most possibly Nadir, but I have a hard time letting go.

“Huh,” I gasped remembering.

“What, what’s wrong,” Erik said, slowing his horse and putting his full attention on me, checking to see if I’m okay.

“My father’s violin, it’s still in my room. What if they storm in and break it? I couldn’t bare it, Erik we have to go back.”

“Christine, we can’t go back now, I know that the violin means a lot to you, but I care more about your life than your father’s violin. I left all of my instruments behind with the faith that they’ll be okay, you have to do that too.” Erik said, speeding his horse up again and meeting pace with Madame Giry and Nadir.

“I can’t to that Erik, that’s all I have left of him. People could give me a million violins in better condition and I won’t choose any of them of my father’s.” He’s ignoring me. I know he has to steer the horse, but they have a mind of their own, I’m sure they’re smart enough to not run into things and follow the other two horses, he can spare me a little attention in my time of hurt.

“Madame Giry,” Erik yelled over the roaring wind. “Can you please go back and make sure the instruments are fine most specifically Gustave’s violin. It’s under Christine’s bed in her room.”

I up at him in shock, I thought he was just going to tell me to suck it up again, and sure he was looking after his instruments also, but because it would probably take a long time to remake them all. I love this man.

“Yes, although, how do I protect a whole room full of instruments?”

“Push the button that shuts the door, it’s on the outside and will stay closed for about two hours before opening up again. It’s more like a safety door for when I was so mad I would destroy everything in the house. It closes when you push the button but won’t open, therefore making it safe.” Erik explained to her from a trot. “I’d wait to see if they actually come because the whole contraption would need to be reset, the cons of using a sandbag as a timer, so use it wisely and you can hide in the room, for the two hours.”

“Alright,” She fell behind before turning around and heading back. She could easily get in whether it be from the front entrance which may raise some suspicion, or from the back. The only problem would be getting past the mob without getting caught. I’m sure she’ll be fine, nobody likes to deal with her wrath.

We rode well into the night, which was only about an hour considering the sun was going down when we were leaving, and we only stopped once to give the horses a break. Nadir swears his house is close, but it doesn’t seem that way, he must have a country home and a city home because there’s no way that he lives this far away to keep an eye on Erik, it’s just not very convenient.

After about another fifteen minutes of looking at the suburbs, Nadir finally slowed down and rode into one of the houses lining the road. It was a decent sized house, two-story, a crème colour, and looks the same as all of the other houses on this block.

“Home sweet home,” Nadir said, hopping off his horse.

“Nadir, this is not the address you gave me,” Erik stated.

“Wait,” I said remembering one of the writings on my skin.

_“Meg, Meg look, there’s never been anything written on my hands, only smudges.”_

_“Wow, he’s left-handed, or somebody else drew on him,”_

_“No he’s definitely left-handed, there’s always smudges on my left hand,”_

_“What do you think it says,” Meg asked, grabbing my hand and pulling it towards her face._

_“I don’t know, looks like gibberish to me. It seems to be something in a different language.”_

_“We should translate it,” Meg said, a gleam in her eye._

_“And how do you intend to do that?”_

_“Well let’s start with the obvious, it looks like it’s an address, just written in a different language. Let’s write it down in case he erases it and go searching for it. I’m sure with all of the music we have here, we can find on it a different language to give us some sort of hint. What if it’s his address?”_

_“Why would he write his own address on his skin?”_

“That was your address Nadir?”

“Huh,”

“Like a year or two ago, an address appeared on my hand, that was yours?”

“I guess, I did give Erik my new address when I moved.”

We walked inside the house and I appreciated its size, decent for a suburbs home. Nadir showed us around, told us which room would be ours, and we stay in there, unpacking our bags a little, knowing that if we unpack too much, we’d have to repack it tomorrow or the day after when we leave.

Madame Giry never came back, I guess it’s because it’s a long ride and she did have to wait out until the mob was gone. I’m starting to feel guilty for sending her back. I wonder how Erik plans to get all of those instruments out safe and sound, and possibly some other things.

I am, however, making him leave his bed behind. He used to sleep in it and I don’t know how. I’ve only really seen it once and that was the morning I found out we were soulmates, I accidentally went into the wrong room and found the coffin there, I later found out that’s what he sleeps in. I refused from that day on, for him to sleep in that bed, he had to sleep in the same bed as me or sleep on the couch. For the first couple of days after that, he slept on the couch, but that was half his size and eventually, the crack.

See, its good memories like that that I didn’t want to leave behind with the house.

Erik cuddled me from behind as we were in the bed trying to sleep. He rubbed my stomach and kissed me on the side of my neck, whispering a soft ‘I Love You’ along with it.

“I love you too,” I said, slipping into a sad slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember those good times when I used to write part of what happened in one persons point of view, and the same thing with the other persons point of view? Why did I ever stop that?


	39. Chapter 39

It has been about a week since the whole Opera thing, and a lot has happened since then. Erik is still known as a wanted man, but since nobody knows what he looks like other than the mask, that’s all the description they have on him. They don’t even know that he has a deformity on his face. Having said that, it means that Erik can no longer wear the mask at all in case of being found which, although makes me happy, has really taken a toll on him.

Erik also has apparently bought a house about two months ago without telling me. He said he came up with the idea about a week after finding out I was his soulmate and had Nadir help him after Nadir showed up again. Nadir thought it would be funny to buy the house that was across from his, Erik, not so much. But at least we have a house.

It was a decent size and had plenty of room for everything we need. When you walked into the house, you can pretty much see the whole thing, it’s very open and I love it. The living room is there and behind it the kitchen. Over to the right is what we’re going to use as the dining room but could just be empty space if we so wanted and behind that is what is going to be Erik’s music room. Above that is three bedrooms and one bathroom, which is perfect because I’m having more than one kid. I know what it’s like being an only child, and let me tell you it was lonely.

I’m currently unpacking the boxes for the kitchen, putting things in the empty cabinets and inwardly groaning at the number of boxes around me. I opened up the next box and started unpacking it.

_Spice, spices, cinnamon, spices, salt and pepper, two plates, two cups, two bowls._

_Why does he only have two of each of those?_ I looked further into the box and wasn’t surprised. Two forks, knives, and spoons sat at the bottom, hastily wrapped because of the limited time we had.

We did return to the house with two carriages to fill with and a lot of horses. The plus side of your best friend being soulmates with a rich man. One of the carriages to be filled with instruments, one with other things. Luckily for Erik, we were able to fit most of his advanced instruments, except for his grand piano for obvious reasons, into the carriage. He was only really able to keep one of each instrument considering he has so many, and that was after we rearranged everything about twelve different times. The other carriage was filled with mostly sheet music, and a few other things, like the two plates, bowls, and cups he owns. He owns more spices than plates, that’s going to change. I placed the silverware in the drawer and threw the box with the others, going to pick up another.

I opened the next box to see it filled with sheet music and picked it up and walked it over towards the music room. Right as I placed it down, Erik opened the double sliding doors to the music room and closed them behind them, not letting me even peek inside.

“I told you, Christine, tell me when you’re going to be picking up the heavy boxes and I’ll come out and help you.” He said sternly.

“Erik, I’m fine, you’re just babying me at this point.”

“I’m making sure you’re healthy,” He pulled me into him by my waist, still holding eye contact.

“Says the man the dropped us ten feet under the stage,”

“It was five, and I didn’t know you were pregnant then.”

“Right,” I said sarcastically, “I’m about to get dinner started, I’m thinking something simple like buttered pasta because it’s quick and easy and I am hungry.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” He said, giving me a kiss on my forehead before letting me go.

“How’s the organizing going,” He stopped for a second, getting a sheepish look on his face.

“Hehe, right. I mean good, good, it’s going great.”  

“You wouldn’t happen to be composing now, would you? While your pregnant wife if slaving away unpacking the house?” I said, playing the pity card and putting my puppy eyes on, knowing he can’t lie to them.

“But it’s a masterpiece if I don’t finish it now-“

“Just go unpack Erik, I want to never see a box again in my life,” I said walking away and going to start dinner. As I was cooking dinner, I could hear him putting nails into the wall to hang his instruments upon, but he was hitting the nails to a weird rhythm. He’s definitely still composing. 

I plated dinner and called him out of the music room, placing the bowls down next to each other on our, now bigger table since we moved.

“How is it coming along?” I asked, blowing on the noodles on my fork.

“Good, I’m actually almost done.”

“I thought you would be, I don’t know why you put it off for so long. I’m still sorry about all your other instruments Erik, but I didn’t know you had that many,” I apologized to him.

“It’s fine Christine, at least they went to a good use and not collecting dust on my shelves when I’m not using them,” His voice cracked slightly during the sentence, only making me feel worse.

We had to give up a lot of Erik’s instruments due to the limited space. He got to keep most of them but got rid of some of them. Most of them, to be fair, were beginner instruments. He made them, learned on them, and stopped using them as soon as he made an advanced version. We gave the instruments to various orphanages around the city so that they could get some music in their life. For the most part, this will be the most they’ve been used in a while, but it still hurts him and me.

We spent the rest of dinner in a peaceful silence. After Erik helped clean up, he wouldn’t even let me pick up the pot that I cooked in so I could store the leftovers. He’s so dramatic.

A knock sounded at the door and I put the wash rag down that I was using to clean the dishes and whipped my hands on my dress before opening the door.

“It’s been a week and your house already looks better than ours,” Meg said as I opened the door.

“Well, it’s thanks to you guys for lending us some old furniture, without that, we’d be sleeping on the floor.” I welcomed them in and took their coats, hanging them over the one seater because we didn’t have a hook yet.

“It really does feel homely in here, I can’t believe you two did this in under a week.”

“Erik did it, he would barely let me pick up a piece of paper,” I complained.

“I’m making sure you’re safe.” He walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my stomach and kissing me on the top of the head.

“I don’t think a piece of paper is going to kill anyone.”

We all sat down, chatting and enjoying each other’s company. Meg showed me some of her wedding plans as Erik showed Raoul around the house. It was nice like we were living a normal life and not on the run from the police still technically.

“You know the police are still looking for you,” Meg whispered to me when we were in the kitchen making tea. Normally Erik wouldn’t let me do this by myself, but since Meg is here, he let it slide.

“Me, why me?”

“They think Erik kidnapped you or murdered you, some think in that order. They are really paranoid. Especially the managers who have seen a plummet in finances in the past week since most their company quit.”

“What, why did everyone quit?” I asked as the kettle started screaming at us.

“Apparently the managers liked having traveling groups coming in and out, they wanted to keep doing that.”

“Oh I didn’t like that, it was too crowded and everyone was in each other’s business.”

“Right? That’s what we’re saying, then since that, the managers also wanted to start doing that, sending a traveling show out, but all of those people have built a life here performing, they didn’t think that it would be a very good idea for them.”

“Well, it’s their downfall not mine.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

* * *

 God, can’t they just leave already. I want to finish setting up the music room so I can finish the song for Christine before I lose it. She’s already interrupted me, now this, I just can’t catch a break. I need peace to be able to write, I also need to be in the right mood, I have both of those things now, tagged along with the stress that this is just going to be another piece I decide to throw away because I don’t feel like it anymore.

There’s a reason I took so long to compose Don Juan Triumphant, it’s because I wanted it to be perfect so I would only write when I’m in the right mood, if I did it at any other time, it would be terrible. Then I had to go back and rewrite it because it sucked, and I had to be in an even better mindset for that. My brain is all kinds of messed up, the downside of having a traumatic life, and so I don’t find the perfect peace I need to write music, which is why a lot of my music ends up being angry chords, but now starting this new life with Christine has set me off for the better and I don’t want that to change when I start getting used to it.

She so perfect, though, I don’t think I ever could get used to it.

Also, the song has to be finished before our wedding day. Sure I can postpone that for about a year, but Christine is pregnant and I’m sure she wants to get married before she has the baby, if I’m unlucky, she’ll want to get married before she shows which only gives us about another month, depending on how fast that child grows, and this song is for our wedding. Of course, I’ve been keeping Christine out of the music room because she’s a snoop and I want to keep it hidden, that way when she’s walking down the aisle, she’ll hear the song for the first time, but it has to be perfect. She’ll say that no matter what I write, it’s perfect, that I’m so talented and I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, but everybody is a critic and knowing that she could be silently judging the song and critiquing every little thing would kill me. I want her to focus on what it means, not what is wrong with it.

I smiled and nodded at Raoul as he prattled on about something or another, I think politics, really, I couldn’t care less. I haven’t thought about politics in years, or ever really.

The girls walked back into the room with four cups of tea and placed them on the coffee table. Great, they’re going to be staying here for longer, they have to finish the tea. Christine squeezed into the one seated next to me, practically sitting on my lap. I wrapped my arm around her waist securing her in place so that she didn’t fall. I looked over at Raoul who looked slightly uncomfortable, Meg was sitting down like two inches away from him. There’s no way they haven’t, you know, right? I know Meg, and I know what her mother used to be like before Meg, and sure Madame Giry was married when I first met her, but if Meg is her daughter... Whatever, not my business.

Christine kept talking to them for another half an hour to an hour, I added in places I needed, but really I was just perfecting the song in my head, that way when I write it down I don’t have to rewrite it.

“Erik,” Christine, nudged me, “You’re not paying attention, just go finish composing,”

Oh, thank god. I stood up, with her still in my arms, placed her down on the couch, kissed the top of her head and ran into my music room all before they registered what happened. I sat down at my piano picked up my pen and wrote thank you on the side of my thumb then started writing more of the masterpiece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a boring chapter, am I right. Don't worry, the next one, something big happens, I'm getting better on this whole, not putting fillers in.


	40. Chapter 40

I looked at myself in the mirror, nervous out of my mind. There is still doubt that this is happening, that this is actually what my life is right now, but here we are. I had trouble sleeping last night I was so nervous, that and Erik wasn’t there next to me to comfort me, but that’s okay, I can’t be mad at him.

I whipped my sweaty hands on the dress, the dress Erik made for me and perfectly tailored for me, and continued giving myself a pep talk in the mirror before Meg came up behind me in a nice violet dress.

“Well I haven’t seen you this nervous since the first night you sang onstage,” Meg chuckled, and I was silently cursing her in my head.

“Yeah well in two months when it’s you walking down the aisle and you trip and fall because of nerves, don’t come crying to me,” I turned to her, a smug look on my face. She laughed at me before getting serious again.

“You look beautiful Christine, but I can’t believe you let him make the dress, it’s bad luck for him to see the dress before you’re married.”

I turned back around and looked in the mirror again, nerves filling me all over. The dress was white, obviously and didn’t have any shoulders. Controversial, but I’m getting married, what do I care. It was kind of tight around my bust and waist, mimicking a corset type look, but flaring out at the bottom. By the time it reached the ground, it was about five feet across, maybe less, it was a big dress. My hands and arms were covered by gloves that go all the way up to my shoulders, covering the words written across my forearm.

I kept it light on the makeup, meaning you can see the shadow of his scars on my face, neck, and collar bones, but at least like this, the priest won’t ask us twenty times that we’re sure we want to get married. We haven’t quite figured out why he kept asking if we were sure, whether it was because Erik is visibly older than me, the scars and death glare he was giving the religious man, or because he has to do that. All I know is that he took us into different rooms, wrote something on Erik’s hand then came to see if it showed up on my hand. Not shockingly, it did, and we good to go.

“It’s bad luck for him to _see_ me in the dress before we are married, it says nothing about the dress itself. Plus he made the dress for me before we even met, was I supposed to say no to an offer like that. The less I have to pay for a dress the better.”

“Yeah, can he make my dress,” she joked.

“Girls, are you about ready?” Madame Giry asked, poking her head in the door.

We nodded our heads and the butterflies threatened to spill as she shut the door. Meg walked over to the table and grabbed my flower crown with the veil sewed to it and placed it carefully on my head, pinning it in place.

I don’t know why I am so nervous, there aren’t going to be that many people there anyway. Just me and Erik, obviously, Meg, Raoul, Madame Giry, and Nadir. Plus the priest, we are getting married in a church, after all, thanks to my persuasion. It wasn’t that hard, I told him my father would have wanted it that way, he said he would have wanted me to wait till marriage to have sex, I told him he could wait then. He made the appointment the next day. That was a month ago, and it felt like time flew by and now here we are.

Meg disappeared out the door, walking down the aisle, being both my bridesmaid and the flower girl. Nadir is the best man and ring bearer, him being Erik’s oldest friend or acquaintance, as he would say.

The song changed and the doors opened showing me standing in the doorway. The song playing was beautiful, but not the wedding march I was expecting, yet I had the fleeting suspicion that Erik wrote it. When we were planning the wedding, I left him in charge of the music for an obvious reason, I did want the final say, but he begged me to let him handle it so I did. I should have seen this coming.

It was a beautiful song, I wonder if this is what he spent his nights composing when we first moved into the house. Then I noticed that Erik wasn’t standing at the altar, but was, in fact, sitting at the piano. I was focusing so hard on the song that I didn’t even notice. I also didn’t notice all of the people standing in the aisles. It seems that Meg or someone had invited all of the ballet people that I used to dance with.

The tears threatened to spill over with all of the excess emotions and the hormones from being pregnant were not helping.

I looked over at the piano, seeing the huge smile across Erik’s face, then I looked around to my friends and seeing happiness and slight confusion as I walked to an empty altar. The rest of the way down the aisle felt like the longest moment in my life but it was also the best moment of my life. I stepped up the two carpets covered steps right as Erik finished the song and walked over to meet me.

“The song was beautiful, did you write that for me?” I whispered under my breath as the preacher started going on about god and something or another. I stopped going to church after my father died because I started throwing myself into my voice and ballet lessons so I barely remember anything.

“Yes, I did, but it’s not as beautiful as you look right now,” I blushed glancing over at him since we were supposed to be listening to the old man in front of us.

“I look like a crying mess,”

“A beautiful one,”

At some point during the priests’ speech, Erik grabbed my white-gloved hand in his black-clad one, warming my hand from the cold air around me.

Then it started.  We decided not to do vows, “A waste of time. I tell you how I feel every day of my life, plus I don’t want to spill my weaknesses in front of anyone.”

“Do you Erik,” We left his last name out since he claims not to remember his last name. I know that’s not true, but I’m sure there’s a reason and I’m not going to argue, “Take Christine to be your lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold, through sickness and through health. Do you swear to by God that you will love your soulmate forever and ever,”

Erik smiled a pure smile, one that I don’t get to see often as he muttered “I do,” The priest gave the same speech to me, and I said the same thing. He picked up the feather that was resting on the table next to him, placing his bible down and picking along with it. He held it above his head and dipped the feather quill in it for everyone to see then lowered it. Erik took off his right glove and the priest drew a line across his hand. He then helped my glove and we held our hands up in the air clasped tightly, although a little awkward because they were both right hands. On my arm, you could see the numbers written there from when he was so young. On my wrist, you could see scars from dark times in both our lives, although more Erik’s because they weren’t all self-inflicted, but on our hands, you could see the matching line, showing the world that we are really soulmates.

We lowered our hands and let go, turning towards each other and Erik lifted the veil.

“You may now kiss the bride,” The priest said, and he didn’t have to tell Erik twice because his lips were already on mine. The people in the pews burst into applause, and I’m pretty sure I could hear Madame Giry crying, I could definitely hear Meg crying.

We pulled away from each other slowly, staring into each other’s eyes and smiled.

“We’re married,” He practically giggled, something totally unlike him.

* * *

 

“What if she walks out on me?”

“She’s not going to Erik, she loves you.” Nadir reasoned with me.

“But what if she does?”

“What if she doesn’t?’ I looked up at him from the floor where I’m currently sat with my head between my hands having a crisis. All the things that could go wrong are running through my head. What if somebody tipped off the police and they raid the wedding. What if the people in the crowd scream in horror at the man they once called the Opera Ghost. Even worse, what if I mess up the song.

Yet, he’s right. I didn’t stop to think about all of the good things about to happen.

I’m going to marry the love of my life, who, by the way, is pregnant with our baby. We’ve just moved into a glorious home and are going to spend the rest of our lives loving and caring for each other.

“Better?” The Daroga asks, a confident look on his face.

“Keep up that attitude and you sit in the back,” I stood up and walked past him, straightening my suit and getting ready to open the doors. Nadir pushed passed me and walked out when the music started playing, informing everyone that the ceremony was about to begin.

Truly, when Meg came up with the idea to invite all of the ballet dancers Christine practiced and performed with, I was a bit hesitant, scratch that, a lot hesitant. I didn’t know how they would react to their friend marrying some dude they don’t know who wears a mask and talks suspiciously like the Opera Ghost they all know too well. However, Meg promised me that none of them would recognize me or my voice, most likely. Probably a lie, actually definitely a lie because they all saw me during Don Juan, but I’m going with it.

About thirty seconds after Nadir walked out, I walked out, down the aisle, and took my place at the piano. I played the Bridal Chorus from Lohengrin by Wagner. He’s a terrible person, but it’s a classic now, everybody plays it at their wedding.

Once Meg was finished walking down the aisle, I changed the song and everybody stood up in honor of the bride. When the doors revealed Christine, my hands stuttered a bit because of her beauty, but I pulled it together. She looked truly stunning in the dress and the veil, although she’d look beautiful no matter what, they just added to the beauty.

Christine looked just as shocked as I felt. She didn’t know that there would be this many people and that I would be playing a song I’ve specially written for her. Tears started to fill her eyes, but she kept them in, probably to save her makeup. Finally, she made it all the way down the aisle, almost just as the song ended, she’ll probably want to hear it later anyway. I played the last chord and, after letting it ring out, stood up, walking over to Christine and whispering to her.

Then, the next thing I knew, we were married. She didn’t run out on me, she did have fear hidden in her eyes, people didn’t recognize me and shun me for everything that I did in life, it was just a normal wedding, with normal people. If only every day of my life was like this one, I would never get tired of it.

We broke apart from the kiss and stared each other in the eyes, both of us had shining looks on our faces as we walked back down the aisle and into a better life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH, Chapter 40 and it's almost done, I'm going to be high key depressed when this is finished, I just want to draw it out to the last seconds of their lives, but I can't. ANyways, YEAH they're married.


	41. Chapter 41

“You know Erik, we should probably start decorating the baby’s room,” Christine said to me, snapping me out of my reading.

“Isn’t the baby just going to stay in the room with us, what’s the point of building and decorating the room now when it isn’t even here,” I asked her, still focused on my book.

“Well if we wait, then we are going to be so occupied with the baby that we won’t have the time or motivation.” She explained.

“I guess, but you can take care of the child while I build the room, it can’t be that hard, what we build a bed, get her some toys, a changing table maybe, some cloth to wrap her in, that’s it.” I closed my book, leaning forward and placing it on the table.

“And when will we get a break. Taking care of a child is a full-time thing for one parent, but having the second one there is so that the first one can get rest and be healthy, and just make it all around easier. You are not going to want to make a room after _he_ is born,” She turned in my arms, looking at my uncovered face. I have a mask that I put on when people come around, I grabbed an extra one from my house when we cleaned it out. It was a bit uncomfortable at first, but I molded it to fit my face better, yet Christine insists on me not wearing it when it’s just us two. I wonder if she’s going to let me wear it around the child, I don’t want to give the poor little girl nightmares.  

“Alright, I’ll start as soon as possible so that _she_ will have her room as soon as she is born, and it will be a she,” I said, untangling myself from her then stood up and walked away.

“You can keep that campaign that it’s a girl up Erik, but it’s growing inside of me and you’re going to be sorry when I’m right and it’s a boy,”

Before I had a chance to reply, a knock sounded at the door, I went to go get it, but Christine was already waddling over. She’s been trying so hard to keep her normal routine but she’s seven and a half months pregnant and is considerably bigger than she used to be. She keeps forgetting that things are going to be hard for her but gets mad when I remind her or try to help her. I learned that one the hard, so now I only intervene when needed. So instead I grabbed my mask and put it on.

I walked up behind her as she opened the door and groaned at the sight before me, walking away and ignoring him, ripping the uncomfortable mask off my face.

“Nadir, it’s so great to see you,” Christine said cheerfully.

“Nice to see you too, and oh my goodness, look how big you’ve gotten,” He said gaping at her stomach.

“Home stretch,” She laughed, putting up the fists of victory, “Well please come in, let me take that from you,” She insisted, I don’t even know what she was talking about because I currently staring at the wall, pretending not to notice he is in my house, _again._  

“Oh no please, I’ve got it.” He walked into the house, I knew by the shutting of the door because no matter how much I groan, I know Christine won’t shut the door in his face.  “I’m doing well, Erik, thanks for asking,” He said sarcastically.

I turned around with a death glare and he flinched back a little, “Just because you live across the street doesn’t mean you can come here whenever you want,”

“Erik,-” Christine scolded.

“No, I’m sick of feeding this fool,”

“That’s why I brought food,” He said, holding up the tin, a smirk on his face.

“I’m going to start building the baby’s crib,” I said, walking away.

“Erik, get back here right now,” Oh god, she already has her mother voice. I thought that was something you learn from being a parent, not something you get before. “We have something to discuss with you.”

I turned around and looked at her suspiciously, before slowly making my way back over to them. They shared the two-seater while I sat alone in the one-seater, never taking my eyes off them, trying to read what they are going to tell me. 

* * *

 

“I-um,” Christine cleared her throat nervous out of her mind and looked at Nadir for help, who just nodded at her to continue. She took a breath then started again. “I had Nadir do some research, on your past. And I know, it was wrong of me to try and find out something about you that you either don’t want me to know, or you don’t know about yourself, but I was concerned, for you, and you’ll see why after Nadir explains.” She pinned it off on him showing Erik that it really was serious. 

“Right, well, Christine came to me with a suspicion and had me look into it, so I did. I used my connections with the police and law enforcement in its entirety to find some information on your past.” Erik was furious, not so much at Christine that he was at Nadir, who had promised him that he wouldn’t do exactly that. Christine, Erik thought, was always just a little too curious for her own good, his own fault, and she was married to him, he owes her a little piece into his past even though he did tell her some.

“You look mad, Erik, please calm down.” The contorting of his face reminded her of the first night she saw his face on him and it was just as scary.

“Continue,” He said, leaning forward in his chair on high alert. Nadir cleared his throat.

“Well, I looked in records for a boy born to two high middle-class parents in Rouen, France, who was born with a disfigurement. It came up with a dead end.” Erik visibly relaxed slightly in his chair but wasn’t completely subdued. “Then, I found an obituary for a François Devereux, from about thirty years ago, maybe more.”

Erik’s breath hitched in his throat as his life started to fall out of place. His father left his mother when Erik wasn’t even born. _He must have just died after he left my mother,_ Erik thought, it was the only thing that made sense to him.

“Written by a Thérèse Devereux,” Christine added in a whisper.

Erik immediately stood up, tears lacing his eyes. SO many thoughts were running through his head. His caretaker told him he left before Erik was born. Albeit, Erik doesn’t remember much of his childhood because he ran away so early in his life, but he does remember his mother hiding away in her room, never speaking to him and was told it’s because of his deformity.

“Erik, your father never left your mother, he died because he was attacked walking home one night. You were only about two, maybe three.” Christine added, standing up and holding onto him for she was afraid he would fall. He was shell-shocked, and to be fair, she would be too if she had all this information dropped on her. This is life-changing for him, but it only gets worse from here, yet she knows this is for the better, he needs to know where this conversation is headed.

”It doesn’t make sense,” Erik whispered under his breath.

“I know Erik, but I promise, it will if you listen a little longer.” She tried to push him back into the seat, but he was stronger.

“I think I’m done for the day.” He started making his way towards the stairs. Christine looked at Nadir for guidance.

“You mother ignored you because he grieved Erik, not because she didn’t love you,” Nadir said, stopping Erik in his place. “Your parents were soulmates, but your mother felt the pull of him dying in that alleyway, she felt each and every stab that was inflicted on him, and she couldn’t stand to look at you because you reminded her of him.”

“How do you know all this,” he snarled through clenched teeth.

“Because we read it in her journal entries. She kept a diary in the police station after they founder her dead body rotting in a chair, only five days after you ran away Erik.” Then he collapsed. Christine made her way over to him as quickly as possible, though it was hard with the extra weight added to her midsection. He was crying, she noted as she pulled his head into her chest to comfort him.

“What’s the rest,” He finally whispered as a few minutes of him calming down.

“Erik, you father was deformed, just like you. It must be something that you carried on from him. We looked at a picture and it wasn’t as extreme as yours, at least that’s what we gathered, but it was from after the incident happened and it was just a medical examiners file, but you don’t have the deformation because you’re a sin to God or because your parents weren’t soulmates, it’s because your parents were soulmates. You supposedly look exactly like your father, everything except for your yellow eyes, and each day you got older, the more you reminded your mother of him and the less she could bear it. She was practically going through insanity because she felt every knife wound and she didn’t want to think about her husband lying on the ground left for dead, but every time she looked at you she was reminded of it. So she didn’t.

“Erik, she hired the maid not because she didn’t love you, but because she didn’t want you to see her in such a state of despair. However, what she didn’t see happening were the cringes you got from the maid. She didn’t give you the mask, the maid did, she didn’t say she hated you, the maid did. But Erik, you must remember that none of this was your fault, you couldn't have controlled any of this.” Christine explained finally.

“And what’s the point of this,” Erik asked dully, no more energy left in him.

“I wanted to prepare you for the child,” Christine whispered under her breath, but he still heard it.

“What’s wrong with the child,” He asked hurriedly, nervous.

“Erik, if you carried it from your father, nothing is stopping it from being carried on from you.’’, Nadir said, and it clicked in Erik’s head what they were trying to get at.

“No, my daughter will not have-“

“Erik we needed to prepare you for it,” Christine explained, trying to calm him down. “I didn’t want you to be shocked if when you first saw your child, all you saw was what you went through.” Erik had so many thoughts running through his head and he was not thinking straight in the slightest, he was starting to worry Christine.

“I don’t want this child to have a life like mine, I want her to be loved,”

“And she will be loved, Erik, because we will love her with all our hearts,” Nadir slowly started backing away, easily leaving their personal conversation because the two of them were staring each other down, determination, and pain in both of their eyes trying to make the other see their side of the argument. “I surprised you think otherwise. Erik for a man who has felt no love before me in his life, you have the shown me the most love anyone could ever offer. I know that you won’t let your kids sit aside and be beaten and mistreated, you will protect them and be over-protective of them because you are one of the most caring people I have ever met for someone who’s murdered before. Quite honestly, sometimes I forget that you did just because of the compassion you show.

“Oh, and the dedication, you love for all things artistically. Our children are going to be great musicians or seamstresses or architects because you are. There is so much more to you, Erik, than just your face, but your face makes up who you are and I don’t want you to forget that, but I also don’t want it to hold you back from living your life the way it should and showing your children that just because there’s something wrong with you doesn’t mean that that should hold you back.” Erik’s eyes softened, after all, she said, finally seeing the final picture.

She was right, she was always right, and it was foolish for him to think anything different. Of course, he would love his children than all his heart. He always wanted to be a better father than what he had, although now renders that useless because he did have a father, he just died. He also wanted to marry any woman that would be a better mother than his mother, also slightly rendered useless, though not entirely. He wanted that woman to be Christine the moment he realized that he was in love with her and that feeling only got strong when he acknowledged they were soulmates. Then he left because she insulted his parents, which now seems irrelevant and very stupid looking back on it. They were both oh so very stubborn and depressed, it was pitiful. But it never stopped his love for her, or hers for him, and that love, he knew, would be enough for his children, but he hates it when Christine is right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Pineapple_Pheonix for giving me the idea on for the beginning of this chapter, it gave me a great transition to destroy poor, poor Erik's life.


	42. Chapter 42

“Erik,” Christine said as she came walking into the music room.

“Yes my dear,” I said, only paying half attention to her, but mainly focused on a lullaby for the new baby.

“I think my water broke,” I snapped out of my daze to see her standing in a soaked dress and instantly started ushering her up to the bedroom.

At the bottom of the steps, she stopped looking at me with puppy eyes.

“We said that we would have the baby outside,” Christine pouted.

“Honey that was before we realized that it was going to be snowing outside, Christine, it is the middle of February-“

“But-“

“No buts Christine, get upstairs and into that bed,” I demanded.

“But the bed, it’ll be destroyed,” She tried to get me to budge, using her puppy eyes, but I’ve grown immune, at least for right now.

“We’ll put towels down.” She huffed stomping up the stairs, knowing that she won’t win this argument. Once I saw her walk into the bedroom, I rushed out the door and across the street to get the Daroga, I guess him living across from us did come with perks. The second I knocked on the door, it was open with Nadir standing there ready to go.

“I already told the midwife,” He said.

“How- never mind, let’s go.” We rushed back across the street, the cold winter air whipping me in the face as I trekked through the darkness and back to my distressed wife. As I walked into the door and heard her muffled groans of pain it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I’m going to be a father by tomorrow, maybe. I’m going to be a father with the love of my life, my soulmate. Two years ago, I didn’t even know I had a soulmate, I was just teaching some seventeen-year-old girl who I had gained feelings for, but would have never acted on it if it weren’t for the Viscount, then she was my other half.

I collapsed on the floor, crying tears of joy for a baby not even born yet as I watched Nadir take the stairs two at a time to help my wife. That sent me back into action. I wiped the tears off my face and headed back to her, knowing that she needs me through this.

“Get off me old man,” Christine said angrily, fighting off Nadir.

“I’m not old,” Nadir said, trying to get her to calm down.

“You’re losing a fight to a pregnant woman. You used to fight professional fighters and win, I’d say you’re getting old.” I chuckled and Christine ran to me, hiding in my arms. I wrapped myself around her trying to get her to calm down.

“She needs to lie down Erik, it will be better for her to take the weight off her legs,” Nadir explained.

“He can’t tell me what to do, he’s not a doctor,” Christine said as I slowly lowered her into the chair in the corner of the room. I pilled towels and cloth under the chair, hoping to lower the mess a little. “Get a bucket you fool,” She rolled her eyes at me. This is going to be a long day.

“Christine, sweetheart, remember that we decided that Nadir would be the doctor because we didn’t want some random man coming into our home and helping you, most likely hurting you. Nadir has helped birth many children almost painlessly. The nurses will be here in an hour or so, you’ll be okay until then, you just have to calm down.” She nodded, slowly finding herself again.

I’m sure she’s in shock. I know I am, and I’m not the one about to push a human out of my body, so I’m not surprised that she’s acting the way she is. She’s only nineteen, I’m thirty-four, this is probably hard for her, and yet she wants more children with me.

After I made sure she was okay and all settled down, I went into the kitchen, started tea up, and grabbed our largest bucket, walking back up to the bedroom and placing it under her. That chair is going to be completely destroyed after today, but it’s okay, I can just make another one and maybe we can keep it if she decides she wants to put herself through this trauma again. Christine groaned in pain as another contraction rolled through her. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it, and I’m pretty sure that if she keeps this up, it’s going to be broken after today.

“Take deep breaths, Christine, it’s only going to be worse from here,” Nadir said from across the room, his attention on something else entirely.

“Thanks for the support,” Christine replied sarcastically through her huffing. I grabbed one of the towels off the floor and wiped the sweat from her brow, handing it to her so she can do that next time. “Please get this thing out of me,” She whined.

“You’re not ready, in fact, you’re not even close to being ready,” Nadir turned around and walked towards us. “I’ve birthed children from many different types of women, so as an expert, I can tell you, you can push as hard as you want, but nothing is coming out until you’re dilated more.” She groaned at that, not liking the response very much. The teapot whistled and I walked back down, just turning the heat down some.

I helped Nadir birth half those children, I guess you could say I was his nurse, but I was more there to take the pain away from women. Nadir, although was a cop in Persia, helped the slaves and prostitutes, women who nobody else would help, through the last step of their pregnancy. He did it there with much fewer materials, and all of the babies survived, some of the mothers weren't as lucky, but they were sick to begin with. If anybody is going to take the lives of both my wife and child in their hands, it’s going to be Nadir.

Although, I’m not going to let her going through all that suffering without any help. I was there through all the births and it is not a pretty picture, so I concocted the perfect homemade remedy to take most the pain off the woman. Sure there will be some aching later, but they always thank me. Plus, I felt bad for most those women, they had a hard life as it was, I didn’t need them traumatized and crying in pain for the next twelve weeks, they were slave and prostitutes, they had jobs, or punishments, either way, it wasn’t something they could stay away from for long and still survive.

It’s about an hour later when the midwife arrives, that I realize that this is going to take longer than expected. She knocks on the door as I’m preparing the remedy for Christine, and I put everything down. Two women push past me and into the house, not even asking if they have the right place, they just ask where the mother is. I point up the stairs and they don’t even give me a second glance, which is probably for the better because as I go back to making the tea, I realize that I am not wearing my mask, which is on the end table next to our bed, where Christine is.

I sigh defeated and finish making the tea, knowing even if I put the mask on, Christine is not taking anything from anyone and probably wouldn’t let me wear it. She’d say something like ‘I don’t want the first thing our baby see’s when he sees his father to be a man with a mask on,’ and she’ll push it off my face while the baby is crowning. I’ve truly made a monster out of that girl. She usually doesn’t care much about what she says before she says it. She wasn’t truly taught how to be a lady and is used to fighting for her spot to be recognized in the Opera house, partly my fault, but now with this pain coursing through her at every turn, she’s just become intolerable.

I love her so.

I hear as another contraction hits her, and every so often, I get a bought of pain. I can tell it’s getting worse for her because it’s slowly getting wore for me. Christine and my soul connection are that we get each other’s scars. Or it would be if we didn’t have such a strong one, however, we do. In doing so, we also get each other’s wounds and some of their pain, we found this out the night I got shot. Christine didn’t notice she was hurt because it felt like a scratch to me, nothing too bad, but she still had a red bulge there on her shoulder that healed with mine. It was weird but opened up so many unsolved mysteries.

Yet, I speed up my pain relief process because if I’m starting to feel it, it must really be bad. You see, I have a high pain tolerance and no uterus, so if I’m starting to feel pain, she must be suffering.

“Drink this,” I said, handing the tea to Christine, who gags when it’s thrust upon her.

“I don’t want to drink you stupid tea Erik, I want this damned baby out of me,” Her voice got progressively louder with each word, but the nurse and midwife setting up in the corner didn’t really seem to care.

“Christine, I promise this will help with the pain, I can tell you’re suffering, just drink it.” She stared at me for a moment as the contraction slowed down and the pain in my abdomen released. Christine grabbed the cup out of my hand and chugged it, hand the empty glass back to me. “Just give it about a half an hour.”

“Could have given it to me half an hour ago,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

“Christine, when did your water break?” Nadir asked, a clip board with paper on it. He wasn’t even looked, just staring at his paper, pen ready to write.

“I don’t know, like two hours ago,” I picked the towel from before up, noticing it was soaked and placed it aside, grabbing a new one, wiping her brow and handing it back to her.

“Okay, at this rate, it could be about another six to eight hours,” Time stopped, the only feeling I had was Christine squeezing the daylight out of my hand, yet that went numb soon after.

“Eight hours,” She muttered angrily, “Eight hours?” Yeah, she was mad. “I cannot possibly do this for another eight hours,”

“I’ll go make some more pain relief,” I said trying to loosen her vice-like grip on my hand.  

 “Pain relief, sir you cannot give her pain relief, that is not God’s way,” The nurse turned around and gasped. Right, the mask. I sneered at her. 

“That first words you’ve spoken to me and you’re already bringing religion into it, you really should rethink that.”

“It’s not right,” Her voice quivered. “The pain is part of the process, and it is immoral for you to be here while she gives birth, and here you are. Count yourself lucky, for you shouldn’t see the woman naked,” She closed her eyes to get through the sentence without her voice breaking, but that doesn’t stop people from seeing my face in her nightmares.

“Wrong for me to see her-, I’m her husband, how do you think she got pregnant? What is she the next Virgin Mary,” I was raising the stress in the room, and Nadir is getting visibly concerned.

“Erik,” Christine said, clasping her sweating hands around mine to try and sooth me. It’s obvious that the medicine was starting to kick in as her breaths slowed down. “It’s okay, just, like, go play something loud enough that I can hear.”

I nodded and walked away, but not ignoring the nurse or midwife or something as she gave me a smug look and turned around.

“Something soothing,” Christine said as I closed the door.

Another possible six to eight hours and I’m trapped out here playing music. Sure that’s one of my passions, but that doesn’t mean I want to miss the birth of my child over it. I grunted in frustration and kicked the stair post, stomping down the stairs and slammed the door to the music room. I had to calm down, this is for Christine. It was obvious that Nadir thinks I’m going to stress her out more, that was obvious, so if I just sit down and play some calming music, it might help a little.

I carefully picked up my violin from its open case on top of the piano and the bow followed soon after. I made sure the bow was in the right condition for playing, that not too many of the hairs were broken, the sound would still come out crisp. That’s the thing about playing intense music, I go through so much horse hair, you start to feel bad for Caesar. 

I walked back out of the music room, armed with my violin, and started improvising a sweet melody. I did that for about two hours, only stopping when Christine’s moaning and groaning started to get so much worse. Her medicine must have worn off. I looked over to the kitchen, taking the violin out from under my neck and ached to make her more, but I know that the nurse will most likely kick me out.

IT’S NOT GOD’S WAY!

Screw off.

* * *

 

I cringed once more as Christine screamed, each one getting louder than the last. She has been in labor now for about twelve hours, and she’s not even ready yet. Each hour, her midwife comes out to remind me everything is okay and that I’m not needed in there, they started doing that after I broke in when Christine started screaming, like proper screaming. I shoved more medicine down her throat, that was three hours ago. They swear that when I’m in there, it makes the process worse, I beg to differ, but they kicked me out twice. She said since I’m so insistent, that I can be present for the child birth, but that when she’s contracting, it isn’t necessary for me to be present. I want to be in there, but Christine said it was fine, and that’s when she was a sane woman, now she’s just a screaming mess, making me want to be in there more.

She screamed once more and it got louder as the midwife, who I don’t remember the name of, emerged and waved me in. In an instant, I was on my feet and in the room. I grabbed the cold tea that was sitting next to me on the stair case and rushed up the stairs into the room. The nurse, midwife, and Nadir were so concerned with the baby ready to come out, they didn’t even notice when I gave Christine medicine. This extra strong kicks in almost instantly, but will only last for about a half an hour, just enough time. I have waited long enough if this baby takes more than a half an hour to birth it’s staying in there.

Honestly, giving her the medicine will also help me. I’m in about half the amount of pain as her, and the pain that I’m in is terrible, I feel really bad for her.

“Alright Christine, you’re going to have to push like your life depends on it,” She nodded her head and screamed as she started pushing, squeezing the blood out of my hand, but I didn’t quite care. I wiped the sweat off her forehead and she swiped my hand away, taking deep breaths before pushing again.

She’s not going to have a voice after today.

The pain hit me hard too, but it could be worse for both parties.

Christine push, and pushed, and yelled at us to stop telling her to push, and pushed some more, and yelled at us some more because we were telling her to breathe.

Then it came, the most beautiful sound in the world. Better than Christine’s singing, which I didn’t even think was possible, but it is.

Christine stopped screaming and we both look down towards what’s inside Nadirs hand. Sitting there, was a blood-covered beauty. I never thought that seeing someone covered in blood could be so precious and give me so much hope. Usually, when I saw people covered in it, I was filled with grief, or as I got older and colder I didn’t feel anything, but this, this is a joyous feeling.

I and Christine started crying at the same time as they took the baby away to wipe it down, get some of the goop off it before handing it to Christine, swaddled loosely in a white goop covered cloth. She laughed through the tears and I leaned over her to look at the baby.

“It’s so small,” I grabbed one of its hands and it opened its eyes, showing horrendous yellow ones, mirroring mine.

“Oh, its eyes are so beautiful,” Christine cried a little more. I looked at her in shock. I always thought my eyes were weird, like a cat, but I guess it’s only natural that she finds them beautiful. “Its?” Christine whispered under her breath, lifting the cloth up.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Told you so,” She exclaimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I forgot to post this yesterday, I was wrapping presents for Christmas until like midnight, but it's a longer chapter and I hope you can forgive me.


	43. Christmas

“Is this really necessary, Christine, Gustave is ten months old, it’s not like he’ll understand the concept of Father Christmas,” Erik complained, placing the presents under the tree.

“Erik, he’s your child too, he probably knows at least three languages by now,” I teased, handing him another present and telling him where to put it.

“Haha, very funny. I only speak _two_ languages fluently.” I stuck my tongue out at him and he walked over and kissed it. I shook my head in disgust and he just laughed giving me butterflies.

Gustave started crying and we both quickly placed the last presents under the tree, deciding that we’ll make it look neater later and ran up the stairs to see what was wrong. Erik beat me to him, carefully picking the boy up and cradling him in his arms. He checked his diaper and asked if he wanted food, but the baby kept crying. Erik, giving up, just started walking back and forth across the room, which seemed to work.

 

_“What is it?”_

_“I told you so, it’s a boy,” I giggled, happy I was right. Erik had a sour look on his face, but I could still see the little rays of happiness shining through the clouds. I didn’t, however, tell Erik the bad news._

_“What should we name him?” Erik asked, pulling a seat up next to me and making sure I was comfortable. He silently asked for the baby, but I just pretended I didn’t see, trying to find a position that was comfortable enough, though I quickly found that that’s not possible. I’m not ready for this medicine to wear off._

_“I don’t know, we should have thought about it more.”_

_“What about Gustave?” He asked, and I almost cried._

_“Yes, I like Gustave.” I smiled looking down at him, and the little pretty scar on the side of his neck, leading down to his chest. Okay, not little, and definitely not pretty, actually almost scary to practically see the collarbone of your newborn child, but I know why._

_He reached over, actually asking for the baby this time and I handed it to him with regret, scared of his reaction. I looked at him as he stared lovingly down at the baby boy in, well, his hand, definitely not a big child, though that’s not what I was thinking about five minutes ago._

_Then, as his breath hitched, I knew he saw it. By now, the room had cleared out, Nadir must have seen it and tried to get the nurses out of the room, using the excuse that they had to get cleaned up because we have a conjoined bathroom to our bedroom._

_Erik slowly pulled the wrap away from Gustave and I could see a mix of emotions pass on his face. He looked up at me with both anger and sorrow in his eyes, but I gave him a loving look back._

_“How could you not care Christine? Look what I’ve done to him.”_

_“Erik, I did not just push this baby out of my body to hate a mark going down his chest, nothing is going to stop me from loving him, just like nothing is going to stop you from loving him.”_

_“I just,-“_

_“You’re blaming yourself, which you shouldn’t, because it’s not your fault, it’s your gift, just like you gave him your eyes, and he most certainly has my hair. I mean it hasn’t even grown in fully yet and I can tell.” He looked back at me with tear-brimmed eyes and I couldn’t tell if it was from happiness for the opposite._

Finally, the little devil went to sleep and we decided that it was time to call it a night, forgetting about the rest of the presents that weren’t under the tree. Erik was right, he’s ten month’s it doesn’t matter to him.

I woke up again to the sound of the baby and I slapped my arm across to the other side of the bed to wake Erik up, only to find that he’s not there. I sat up and went to investigate where he was, assuming that he was with the baby.

I walked down the stairs, rubbing my eyes and making sure not to fall down the stairs. The smell of pancakes hit me in the face, and my stomach groaned along with it. I hurried my pace and rounded the corner to see Erik holding Gustave in one hand and flipping pancakes with the other. I knew he was the right choice.

Gustave noticed me when I entered the room and made grabby hands towards me, saying ‘mama’ over again. Erik glanced over and smiled at me, handing the baby over as I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Smell’s amazing,” I said to him.

“Pancakes!” Gustave exclaimed. I giggled, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

“Yes, pancakes.”

“I’m almost done if you want to get him situated,” Erik said, flipping the last of the pancakes.

“Sure,” I placed Gustave in his booster seat, tying him in and making sure he can’t escape, because he does that, often.

 

_“Mama,” something whispered. I slowly awoke and felt a weight on my chest, assuming it was Erik, I just patted his arm, but that was not his arm. “Mama,” it repeated._

_I opened my eyes and yelped as an eight-month-old Gustave sat on my lap. At that, Erik was instantly out of bed with his lasso in hand, crouched and ready to attack._

_“Erik it’s okay,” I sat up, grabbing the baby off my chest._

_“Oh my god, is that Gustave?”_

_“Well, it’s not some random child that crawled in our window,” I said sarcastically. Gustave giggled and clapped. “What I want to know is how he got out of his crib, opened his door, down the hallway, opened our door, and crawled into our bed.”_

_“He is my child,”_

_“Couldn’t you be less of a protégé,” Erik climbed back in bed, placing his lasso back under the pillow and grabbing the child out of my arms and placing him in between us._

_“It’s not my fault if my bloodline is perfect,”_

_“Yeah, well, your perfect bloodline waking me up at three am is not going to fly, so I’m glad I tainted it.”_

_“You didn’t taint it, you only made it more perfect,” He smiled and leaned over our child, kissing me on the cheek before falling back asleep, I follow soon after._

“Why didn’t you wake me, I could have helped so that you didn’t have to juggle two things.” I got the butter and syrup out and placed it on the table, away from curious hands.

“You looked so beautiful and peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb that,”

“I look like crap Erik, you don’t have to be nice just because it’s Christmas.”

“I’m not lying Christine, you look gorgeous.”

“Ha, double it back, I have your scars, you just said you like your scars, finally,” I raised my hands up in a victory motion and Gustave repeated it, giggling happily.

“You’re ridiculous,”

We sat down and ate together and I moaned into the first bite. This man literally is good at everything. After we ate and picked up after Gustave, who is feeding himself, but very bad at finding his mouth and most the food just ends up on the floor, when a knock sounded at the door and Erik got up to get it.

“Erik, who is that, you know that I don’t like people seeing me like this,” I asked furiously as he inched closer to the door.

“Like what, beautiful, stunning,” he asked, turning around, but not stopping his pace.

“Like I just woke up,”

“That’s probably because you did just wake up. You better hurry up and get ready, I’m almost at the door.” I screamed in distress, grabbing Gustave and running up the stairs, the baby in my hands laughing the whole time. I slammed the door to my room as Erik opened the one downstairs.

I got ready in record time, and still looked great, it was only like fifteen minutes. This was torture for Erik too, because he had to hold small talk to whoever he invited, and he usually relies on me to do that while he sits back and watches. It’s probably only Nadir, but I’m hoping he’s suffering.

I walked down the stairs like a princess, holding Gustave in my hands.

“Christine you are glowing,” A very pregnant Meg said as she waddled over to me.

“And you look like you’re going to burst,” I laughed back.

“Any day now,” She sounded annoyed, and I completely understand. At the beginning of pregnancy, you’re so happy and amazed that there is another person growing inside of you, that you are able to create another human, then there’s the morning sickness, and the sickness in general, and the mood swings, and the hunger and weird, weird cravings, then you just want them gone. Your back hurts, your head hurts, and your center of balance is all thrown off making life a living hell. Meg is having twins; I can’t imagine the pain she must be going through.

I remember screaming at Erik one night for him to have sex with me because it’s said to help push a girl into labor. He refused, apparently, when you’re a month away from your due date, it doesn’t work, he wouldn’t even give it a try though.

I walked further into the room, putting Gustave down in his playpen and handed him one of his toys. I forced Erik to make both the toy piano for him to stay occupied with and the playpen so that it takes him longer to get into places he shouldn’t be. I can barely work anything in this house it’s so baby-proofed, the stupid escape artist.

Madame Giry and Nadir, who have started dating, which is weird, but they’re old and both their soulmates are dead so I guess it’s less weird, not really, were also here.

They ate the extra pancakes and we settled down into small talk, with Erik ignoring everyone and once again trying to teach the child how to play the mini piano before we decided it was time to open presents.

I was not thrilled with Gustaves presents from “Santa.” Erik insisted that he needed another instrument, so Gustave now has a mini, working might I add, violin.

Not worth it.

I’m so mad.

He’s Erik problem, I’ll teach the next one all their instruments.

Meg must have thought it was funny or had talked with Erik beforehand because she got him a mini sheet music stand and a beginners piano book, which doesn’t even fit on the stand.

I know he’s Erik’s kid, but he’s also mine, and I am not perfect, in the slightest. Erik literally taught me how to sing and had said that I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere with my voice if not for him. Sure he said that in one of his rage tangents, but that sounds about right.

“Guy’s, he’s not even going to be able to use this stuff for another five years, at least,” I argued, slightly annoyed.

“Christine, you seem to be underestimating him, I mean look at him now, he’s already figured it out.” Meg pointed out. Everybody’s attention was turned towards the child in the playpen, plucking the string on his new violin. There was no rhythm and tune, he was just pushing and pulling, but he still knew what to do without being told, and it made me slightly worried about this kids’ future.

I know Erik won’t let anybody teach his children, or wife for that matter, but himself, and I was taught by Erik, I know how brutal it can be.

“I hate, all of you,” Gustave laughed, dropping his violin and going back to pounding on the piano. Except the piano made the sound of bells, and so it was piercing. “Okay, that’s enough of that.”

I took the piano, giving him one of his other toys from Santa and hoping that will keep him occupied for at least the next twenty minutes until he climbs out and goes for the piano again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like Christmas and are sick of it getting shoved in your face, but I celebrate Christmas and I didn't want to like have them celebrate a different holiday and get it completely wrong and look like an utter fool and be rude.
> 
> Also, usually I write the next chapter a week before and proof read when I’m not in the mood to write, but I don’t have the next chapter written, and musical rehursals start this week and I have a named role this year, so don’t hold your breath, and I’m sorry.


	44. Chapter 44

_One, two, three, four,_

The music started with a gentle caress at the tempo of my arms, slowly building up to be a dramatic overture for the Opera. I cringed as one of the oboe’s hit a sour note but rationalized in my head that it’s only a dress rehearsal and I’ll yell at them later when going through notes with the performers.

As the orchestra hit a sustained note at the same time, the curtains above me opened and show the girls standing on stage, ready to sing at their cue. I lifted my hands in a dramatic motion and they took a breath before I conducted the one and the opera started.

Christine and I decided that eventually we, would need jobs, that we would just keep that passion of music in the family and started an Opera house, but not any old Opera house, one for children to learn, experience, and have fun. I write all the music, help stage, and come up with rough drafts for the costumes and scenery, Christine stages, teaches them how to sing and helps choreograph, but Meg does most of choreographing and teach how to dance. We have put together a nice little place for children to get excited about performing arts, and lucky for us, we have Raoul to help fund it all.

Over the past couple of years, it’s definitely started to take wind and has slowly become one of the best places to send your kids to learn. We put on very serious productions and don’t joke around, just like in regular Opera houses, although we are easier on them, we still do push the children to become better. They won’t get anywhere if we baby them.

We also teach each child to play an instrument or two if they so choose as well as sing and dance if they show up when they’re younger, and if they stay with us, they can pick and chose what they want to do when they get older.

However, my children are well versed in multiple instruments, how to sing, and how to dance.

Gustave, the oldest at ten, plays the piano as his primary instrument, but can also play the violin, and any woodwind you throw his way. He has a beautiful singing voice, although we will have to teach him how to hit those lower notes once he matures. He’s even helped me compose a song for one of the Operas. I’m so very proud of everything I’ve taught him and he’s great at it all, even if the kid does want to be a scientist. I’m not going to shame him for that, however, in my heart I am quite disappointed.

Eve, our second oldest at eight, is my precious little girl. She looks just like me except her baby blue eyes like her mother. She has scars on her face, albeit, less so than mine. It doesn’t run into her scalp and barely reaches her mouth, just on her cheek and eyes, but every time I look at her, I can’t stop hating myself. However, she loves her scars, she says it just like her father, she won’t even let me wear my mask. When she was a baby and I’d hold her in public, she would just knock it off my face. This little girl can sing too. A belt, which is unlike her mother, although Christine can sing loud, as one has to sing over an orchestra, Eve can sing over five. Though her personality takes after her mother a lot, clumsy and quite sassy, even loves playing the violin, which Christine has taken up because it reminded her of her father. Neither are good at anything else, but I won’t tell them that, they try and that’s the point. Plus, she’s my child, she’ll get better.

Then there’s little Ethan five, and this boy is going places. Gustave and Eve are both extremely talented, there’s no denying, but this kid is three and already is a musical genius, well, for his age. It’s probably because he’s the youngest, he would sit in on lessons when I taught children for the music house whereas when the other two were young we were still planning everything out and making sure that we were going to survive through the stress. It was at the grand opening that Christine told me she was pregnant again, and so he grew up only around music. My children are fast learners and being around that much would definitely influence how good he is. The kid can already play any soprano version of an instrument since his hands are so small, it’s hard for him to get them around the regular sized version of each, but they’re the same fingerings. He’s an excellent music reader which really helps him, yet he’s lacking in all other subjects. I like my children to be well rounded, but since he’s grown up around music, that seems to be the only thing he’s good at, which is good because it keeps the other two from getting jealous. Ethan looks like Gustave did when he was younger, but instead of scars on his chest, they’re all down his arms.

I love all my children so much, and I love Christine the same. Honestly, if you had told me fifteen years ago that this is what my life would be, I’d laugh in your face. Fifteen years ago, I was teaching a sixteen-year-old how to sing from behind a mirror, now I’m married to that same girl who has aged beautifully into a thirty-year-old woman, and I have three beautiful children with her and a business. The children I work with become accustomed to my face and don’t even mention it, getting me over my fears, although they do still hate my children for being the best, there are definitely some children I work with that are incredible and have a lot of potentials. Some of the older kids have even landed jobs at professional opera houses and I can’t be prouder of what I have done for them.

After so many years of hate and murder, I can’t get over the happiness I can bring others, and it’s all because of Christine. 

* * *

I sighed as another girl tripped over her own feet and wrote it down on my notepad. This is our second to last practice, and it has to be perfect, I get this is the ten to thirteen age group, but that leaves no excuse.

_God, I sound just like Erik,_ I thought, shaking my head.

I looked into the pit to see Gustave running his hands along the piano keys, eyes locked on his father who was conducting. Said conductor only uses Gustave to make his music more complicated. Sure there are definitely kids that can master up with Gustave, Erik knows for a fact that his child can do it, and he can shape it with extra time with him at home to be perfect.

I focused on the singing again, hearing for any parts that we need to fix and go over before a loud bang sounded from outside the auditorium before double doors slammed open and a five-year-old followed by a seven-year-old and two nine-year-old twins came bursting down the aisle. I’ll give them credit for how silent they were trying to be, but with all this stress of life, I was not happy, it’s probably the pregnancy hormones considering we’re on number four. I haven’t told Erik yet because I don’t want to admit it to myself that I’m pregnant again, but we really need to find a better kind of birth control.

I handed my notepad over to Meg who was also pregnant, but much more so than I was and headed to go kill some children; I’ve become much more strict over the years or less tolerant of fake sadness.

I herded them back down the aisle and out the door, Ethan doing the walk of shame while the other three were holding their heads high. I shut the doors and turned around, hands on my hips staring at the four children in front of me. Two of them were mine, but the other two were Megs and Raoul’s, and it was obvious

The twins were identical other than one was a boy, the other a girl. They were both lanky with blond hair and blue eyes. It’s hard to tell which parent the twins took after because both Meg and Raoul look like each other, except for their noses, Meg has an itsy bitsy nose, and that shows in both her kids. Both twins have wavy blond hair and baby blue eyes. Meg has trained them well in the art of ballet and it shows in their body structure, you can see the hint of extreme muscle needed to dance like that hiding beneath their clothes.

“Would anybody like to explain why you interrupted the dress rehearsal?”

“It was Ethan,” Edgard, one of Meg’s twins started.

“He was running around, we tried to stop him,” Lorette, the other twin, added.

“But we couldn’t,” finished Eve.

I kneeled down next to my youngest who was looking very sheepish, which is adorable because it’s the same look his father has when he does something wrong.

“Ethan, I need you to behave, this is very important to mama and papa, if you don’t I’ll ground you again, no violin privileges,” Tears started to well up in his eyes, but this is my third child and I am no longer a pushover. “Put that lip away young man, I’m going to go back to my job, and if I find out that you’re acting up again, you will be grounded and I’ll talk to papa.”

“I’m sorry mama,” He said, little kid is a better actor than me.

“Go play nice,”

I walked back into the room quietly, trying not to disrupt the production and noting that I didn’t miss much. This is very important that it goes well because, for most of these kids, it will be their first production that they’re performing for outside of their parents and family. Before they’re ten, they are only in trial productions, sometimes, when they like eight or nine and have been doing it for a while, they can help choreograph or write parts in their instruments for the four and five-year-olds, which is the youngest we’ll take, three if they turn four in the first half. It’s confusing, but it all fits together and gives all the kids a great experience. Sure it took years to get it this perfect considering that it took time to get enough kids, but we’ve created a nice little business for kids to do what they love. In addition, we don’t have to live on what Erik stole from the opera Garnier anymore, so that’s a plus.

I stared at the kids on stage and remembered back to when we first started. We were struggling, and though we had Raoul for a backup, we didn’t want to rely on him for money. By this point, I had already had two kids and though the word was starting to get out, it was going around fast enough.

I do not miss those days.

But now, were like the top tier theater for young kids and teenagers, and we don’t cost much because we don’t want people to struggle just so their kids can be well trained in the musical arts.

I went back to watching the kids performing, using my now perfect pitch trained by Erik to tell when a kid is flat or sharp, when they’re a little late on their cue, or when they just hit the wrong note entirely.

At intermission, Erik walked over to me and gave me a kiss on my forehead.

“After this is over, I have something I want to show you.” He said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be the last chapter, but then I decided that I hated it and added a cliffhanger at the end, as I usually do. In my head, this chapter was amazing. It wrapped up their lives nicely, but something about it just didn't sit right and so there's another one coming. Plus, now I can have forty-five chapters instead of forty-four.   
> I don't like to say it, but the next chapter will most likely be the last, and I don't want to part. Therefore, I decided that if I get a bout of inspiration, I'll write it out. It will just be like at some point in their lives this happened, and I probably won't post it under this title, but rather their own and make it a series.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready, because i wasn't

“Just a little further,” Erik said, holding his hands over my eyes and guiding me forward.

“Erik, I can clearly tell that we are on a tall building and if I fall-“

“You’re not going to fall, Christine, I wouldn’t let you.” Arms found their way around my waist, holding me tighter with an order not to open my eyes. He walked me a little further forward before telling me to look. I gasped at the sight before me.

“How did you get me up here?” I turned to him with big eyes, “You never cease to amaze me, really,”

“Well, I don’t have the back that I used to and I did carry you most of the way, but yeah, be amazed.” I laughed as he overdramatically sat down as though he was tired, only then did I notice the blanket on the floor of the roof. “I was as surprised as you were when I found out that they rebuilt the Garnier back into its old self after the fire, but apparently the original foundations were still intact and it was a ‘historical monument that will be appreciated throughout the future’. I didn’t tell you because, on the way back home from visiting Paris, I had the great idea to go on a date.

“And of course, this is where we had our first official date, I thought it would be a nice place to revisit. We haven’t had a date in such a long time, and the kids are old enough where we can leave them with Meg and Raoul without worrying too much that those two blonds will kill our children.” I laughed the purest laugh that I have had in a while.

“Erik, that’s so mean, you’ve got to get over it. You are making this coffee spill accident a big deal. It was our kid that tripped him.”

“That carpet replacement cost me good money,”

“It was an ugly carpet.”

He chuckled and looked away from me and over to the city, and the sunset surrounded his head and make him look angelic. From this angle, I couldn’t see the mask and he just glowed. He had a nice simple smile that told me all that I needed to know. He was fine, everything was fine. Life was content, and sure there are some stressful moments in that, everything will work out. I was so close I could see all the little details in his face.

The freckle right above his lip, the slight scars from acne framing his cheeks. His jawline which is so sharp it could cut a diamond. I could see the indentation in his skin where the string of his mask sits. It’s times like these where I want to punch him every time he says he unattractive.

“This is so romantic,” I cried. He looked shocked as I felt when the first tear hit my lap and handed me his handkerchief.

“Are you okay?”  He pulled me close and ran a hand through my hair.

“Yeah, you know just all the stress with putting on the new Opera and-“

“You’re pregnant again, aren’t you?” I hate him.

“I hate you. How did you guess?” I pulled away from him and looked in his eyes.

“You have had the same signs every time, and you’re still a terrible liar,” I wiped the tears away from my eyes. “Food?”

“Yes.” He reached into the wicker basket before us and pulled two sandwiches out, handing one to me. “How did you get all this up here, especially without people knowing.”

“Oh, I’m sure some people noticed, but when somebody with a mask and a death glare is scaling a building with a basket and a blanket, you tend to leave them alone.”

“Oh Hun, you spoil me,” I leaned over and kissed his freckle.

We ate the rest in peace, looking out over the sunset and it closed around the city, the crude air filled my nose and calmed me, reminding me of my childhood. Sure the suburb air is clean, but it’s nothing compared to the dirt and grime I used to live in, my kids will never know. And I hope they live their future never having to live like that.

“What do you think life will be like in five years?” He asked me, practically reading my mind.

“Honestly I don’t know. I know what I’d like it to be, but if you asked me five or ten years ago where I’d be now, I would not even come close to guessing, and it’s way better this way. I would have said performing while I live in a white picket fence with my perfect husband, I’m so glad it’s not that, it would have gotten so boring.”

“I’d like to think that it will be predictable, four kids, still working the Opera House, maybe we open another one, repeat productions. Maybe we even open a young adult house and become one of the biggest and most well-known Opera houses around the world”

_We walked down the middle aisle hand in hand, waving at the crowd around us as they clapped, almost like we were King and Queen. The opening of our new Opera house in the Americas was a success and will be for the rest of time._

_We hired a very well-known man to run it and keep in contact with us, though since it will take time for messengers to reach us, it’s less of keeping in contact with us, than telling us their end decisions, however, I figured both Christine and I should be here for the opening._

_It’s important that we attend all the openings for our opera houses all around the world, Italy, England, Germany, Berlin, everywhere. The opera houses are such a big hit because it’s the first time that it’s a worldwide Opera House chain. Well almost worldwide, we still haven’t expanded to the middle east, and I don’t think we will because word has gotten around enough about who owns the chain, they’ve seen our faces, and the scar isn’t that common, so I’m very recognizable._

_I’m just afraid that if it spreads to the middle east, my past will catch up with me and put my family in harm's way. I wouldn’t be able to live with the fact that I was the reason someone in my family was murdered or even just injured, so I’d have to leave, and I don’t think I could do that either. I mean, they think I’m dead, that Nadir took me out into the middle of the desert where nobody could see and killed me, left my body there to rot._

_It’s already bad enough rumors have gotten around that I was the infamous Opera ghost of the Opera Garnier, if it got around that I murdered people, my life will be over, thankfully that won’t happen._

_Christine and I walked on to the stage and looks over the millions of people who bought tickets to see the grand opening of the first of my opera houses in the US, on Coney Island, and it is grand._

“Alright, Erik, dream big,” Christine laughed.

“It’s possible,” I argued.

“In five years?”

“You’re right, so pack your bags, Christine, we’re going to Italy, England, Germany, Berlin, and America.” Christine hit my arm playfully, shaking her head and denying it. “Well, then what do you think would happen,”

 

_I looked out the window at the expansive yard in front of me with children playing in the front yard. Erik came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me on the top of my head._

_“Mom, the kids want to know if dinner is almost ready,” Gustave said walking inside the house with a nondescript, but beautiful, woman on his arm, my daughter-in-law. I don’t know what she looks like because I never met her, but I know whoever she turns out to be she’ll be perfect for Gustave._

_“They must have your patience,” Erik joked, taking his arms from around my waist and pulling the pan out of the oven for me._

_“It smells delicious,” Gustave said, walking closer and putting his nose in the pan._

_“Not yet, Gustave. You never change,” His wife slapped him over the head playfully and it reminded me of when I was that young. Now I’m old and wrinkly, it was bound to happen, but I still haven’t come to terms with it. At least I’m not as old as Erik,_

“Hey,” Erik complained.

“I’m not done,”

_The family sat around the table and chattered while they ate. Gustave who is twenty now, but still has yet to get married, which I’m not happy about. It’s not the right time he says, well I ain’t gonna live forever so it better be the right time soon. Eve, who is eighteen, but still has yet to meet her lifetime partner, Ethan who is only fifteen now, but very invested in the arts. I’d say he’s better than Erik, but Erik does have other specialties and as much as I love Ethan, he needs to get better at math, and English, and social studies and everything not music related. Then there little Therese, ten, the little pride and joy of my life. We decided to name her after Erik’s mother since we already have one named after my father. Gustave has a strong bond with her and it makes my heart happy because I know that he can protect her. I don’t want Erik throwing his back out trying to scare off all the boys that are going to go after her. He already did that with Eve._

_As I look around the table, this is exactly how I wanted my life to turn out. A stereotypical happy family._

“Boring,” he held out the ‘o’ for dramatization, “where’s the fun in that?” Erik jested.

“Sometimes it’s not always the fun that matters. Plus you’re already forty-four, do you really want to be traveling around the world when you’re almost fifty?”

“Alright you have a point, but as a forty-four-year-old, I can tell you that I don’t have wrinkles, so what makes you think that at almost forty you will?”

“Stress.” We sat together in peaceful silence, listening to the bustling of life that is going on below us.

“We should probably head back,” Erik said, not moving a muscle.

“That was convincing.” I chuckled, actually starting to get up. The sun has already set and it’s going to take half an hour to get back home. Erik moved us closer to the city, saying if the opera house is closer to the city we’ll get more patrons and students, but really we both know it was an excuse to move away from Nadir and Madame Giry. Honestly, I was tired of them pestering us all day, so I don’t mind.

“I’m moving, I’m moving.”

 

_Gustave stood at the altar, a burning bright smile plastered across his face as the flower girls walked down the aisle. They were Therese, our youngest at ten, and Meg’s youngest daughter Coralie at eleven. Meg and I were both sad to find out that we wouldn’t be in our children's' wedding, but at least they put some family in the wedding. Everybody stood and turned around as the music changed to the wedding march._

_Raoul came walking down the aisle, but no eyes were on him, only on the person next to him._

_I envy Gustave for his soulmate, he found out who it was instantly because they were childhood friends. I wish finding my soulmate was that easy, not that finding Erik was hard, it just hurt, a lot. It must run in Meg’s family because she and Raoul found each other instantly, thanks to me._

_Raoul handed his child off and walked into the pew across the aisle from ours sitting down next to Meg who was crying as much as I was. Erik pulled out another handkerchief and handed it to me to wipe my eyes with, careful not to smear the makeup._

_“We have gathered here today to join two families in holy matrimony. With Gustave Daee and Edgard De Changy,”_

_Erik definitely wasn’t the happiest when he found out who Gustave's soulmate was, but he also wasn’t happy when he found out that Gustave wanted to be a scientist, and it was the same kind of mad. I calmed Erik down before explaining to Gustave that it was just because he was the oldest and Erik made up his life already when I was pregnant with the little boy, but he’ll get over it in a day or two._

_Gustave was scared, but I would never let that happen, Erik was just in shock. Then, of course, there was when Eve got her soulmate, and pregnant._

_He tried to murder the boy._

_He has a very short temper. I wasn’t happy, but Erik and I were also pregnant before we got married, and though it wasn’t right after we found out we were soulmates, it still wasn’t far from it._

_Meg and I were thrilled when we found out our children were soulmates. We dreamed of this happening since we were ten, and it did happen. It’s the only thing that I actually predicted right, well, almost right. We never thought it would be both our oldest boys, but it was close enough._

_“You may now kiss the,” he paused, looking between the two before continuing slowly, “groom.”_

_I cried, but over my sobs, I could hear Megs even louder._

 

When we got home, we found Meg and Raoul fast asleep on the couch. Erik snorted and threw a blanket over top of them, grabbing my hand and leading us upstairs.

We first checked on Ethan, who was clutching onto his stuffed bear Erik bought him when he was just a baby. Then we checked on Eve who had her back to us but was snoring softly. After, we checked the guest bedroom, which only had Lorette in it. Confused, Erik and I headed to Gustave's room.

Erik put a shushing finger to his lips and placed his ear against the closed door. Nodding he opened it quickly, scaring the two boys in the room.

“Gustave, Edgard, what are you two still doing up, do you know what time it is?” I scolded.

“Sorry, mom,”

“Sorry aunt Christine,” They said at the same time.

“You two should have been asleep two hours ago,” Erik said.

“We’ll go to bed now,” Gustave said climbing into his bed.

“You better,” Erik said, walking away, still holding my hand.

I pulled it back, “I’ll be there in a minute,” He nodded.

“Edgard, you might as well sleep in here, you don’t want to wake your sister, I’ll get you a pillow and blankets.” He nodded his head, thanking me.

I silently walked down the hallway, avoiding the floorboards that creek because all of my children are light sleepers thanks to Erik. I could feel the floorboards shift under my feet, and with each one, I was scared it was going to make a noise, but they didn’t. I returned to the room with four quilts, three four him to fold in half and sleep on, and four pillows, because I don’t know how many he uses. I opened the door and handed the sheets to Gustave and gave him a kiss on the forehead goodnight, leaving while he started to lay them out on the floor.

I walked back into my room and started to get ready for bed. A deep sigh escaped my mouth as Erik untied the half corset. He made it for me after hearing me complain and complain again about how restricting my old corset was and how completely useless it was. I used to never wear one because I was a dancer, and you can’t lean over. Now it only covers my ribs and chest, it’s still not completely uncomfortable, I’m quite impressed with him, he always makes my life easier.

I threw on the nightgown before laying in between Erik’s arms, resting my head on his chest. His chest rose and fell with each breath he took and my head went along with it.

“I love you,” His bass resonated into his chest and tickled my ear.

“I love you too,”

I listened to his heartbeat, the thumping putting me to sleep.

In my subconscious, I knew that life would always work out. It throws some curve balls, sure, but without that curveball of words slipping out of my mouth and his constant self-loathing, I would have never come to the fact that I love him. Yes, he’s my soulmate and it was bound to happen, and it certainly wasn’t the most romantic way to figure it out, but it’s still our love story, and I’ll still love to tell it over and over again.

I don’t know what the future will bring us, but hopefully, it isn’t more kids and it isn’t more scars, because though it’s the scars that connect us, it’s the love that keeps us together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did Gustaves beacuse it's their first child and I feel like he's what changed their life even though i was juggling the idea of doing their youngest because that would mean all the other children already have their soulmates and some children of their own, but also this was I didn't have to make up more names for grandchildren as much fun as that would have been.  
> And haha you see what i did there with the closing sentence, i'm amazing. I rewrote the last three or four paragraphs like ten times because i wanted it to be perfect, but not corny and everything was coming out corny even what i have now is, putting the title in ther,e but i couldn't help it. It's probably going to get changed when i proofread it all again and close up some gaping holes in the plot i forgot about.


	46. Thanks!!!

I'm back!

I wanted to just come back and say thank you to everyone for reading this. I loved reading the comments and hearing your reactions to every chapter, and even if you didn't read comments, to see this story gain kudos was just weird. I never thought that people would read and like this as much as they did. I'm definitely going to continue writing, not for this and maybe not even for this fandom, but since I found out that I won't be in a lot of the spring musical for my high school because the high school version of the musical cut out like half of my character, I will have a lot of spare time. Though right now I have finals because we have block scheduling at my school, and I still have to do my summer work for my other classes, I'm still going to have more time than I thought. 

So hopefully I write something better than this next time, maybe planned out better, that's not to say that the next thing I post will be a chaptered fic.  Again thank you so much, I really thought about giving up writing this, but I didn't because I didn't want to let so many people down. 


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